


Poor Unfortunate Souls

by Persipnei



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: AU - Magic Realism, Bad English... even worse French!!, Bland descriptions of sex, Catholicism, Everybody calls Snafu Merry in this story, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Ableism, Mentions of PTSD, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Somehow, The 40s were truly /that/ great huh., We cook slow in this kitchen. We let feelings MARINATE., alternative universe, and I can't say I regret it bc it's cute, loa - Freeform, toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 179,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persipnei/pseuds/Persipnei
Summary: “Your boy's gonna save mine.”She looked down at the kid the first thing she thought was that Madame Mercier was far too old to be his mother. His grandmother, perhaps. But that doesn't really matter, does it? “Is he sick?” Mary Frank asked, placing a hand over his forehead. Merry's eyes were big and bright, perhaps a little unusual but far from sad. They shone with childish mischief. Not sickness or worry.The hand of the older woman caressed the kid's cheek and he looked delighted to have so much attention. “Not yet.” the priestess answered. “But his soul will rot. And I won't be enough.”





	1. Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> We can all tell from where I got the title. I am that original. 
> 
> Alright, this is an alternative universe even if it's set on the same time period and some things are pretty much the same. First and foremost, what's magical realism? It's a genre that portrays fantastical events in a realistic tone and setting. Simple as that. I like that kind of books. Everything completely illogical can happen and still be legit. The main things that are different from the TV series:  
> 1\. Eugene is older than his brother Edward.  
> 2\. Eugene is not allowed to go to war due his heart condition.  
> 3\. Eugene has soothing hands.  
> 4\. The Sledge are catholic. Don't know if in the series they were christian or something else.  
> 5\. Eugene and Snafu are something like... soulmates, for the lack of a better term.  
> 6\. Snafu backstory and family are totally made up for this story.  
> 7\. So are Roe's.  
> 8\. No one really calls Snafu Snafu in this so... Yeah.
> 
> And finally but most importantly, the characters of this story were based on their fictional representation from the TV show. I mean no disrespect to the real veterans. 
> 
> Translation: 
> 
> Petite Diable: Little devil, something you'd call a mischevious child.  
> Bébé: Baby.  
> Un petit garçon: A little boy.  
> Chère: Dear (For a woman)  
> Fais do-do: Go to sleep. During WWII it was used to call any kind of dance party.  
> Mamaw: Grandma.
> 
> As you can see, I didn't write the dialogues in a way that would match their pronunciation or accent because I don't really dare to do so. I don't know enough English to not write it properly on purpose if you know what I mean. 
> 
> Also, can you believe that five dollars in the 20s are like more than sixty dollars nowadays? That's crazy.
> 
> WELL! Let me know what you think. Is this decent enough to be posted? Heck, I really don't know the first thing about English.

**NEW ORLEANS, APRIL 1923**

When religion and science let her down, Mary Frank knew she had to find a third option. Something that would stand in the middle of those: offer her faith but also a remedy for her problem. They had been trying to have a child for longer than two years, now. After four miscarriges, plenty of praying and the help of some of her husband's peers, Mary Frank reached her limit. She didn't want to go through the frustration and the sadness of a fifth. With a gentle lie (“I'm going to visit my brother, Edward, I'll be back in a couple of days”), she left Mobile and headed towards New Orleans. She felt a little uneasy during the whole trip, she never travelled all by herself. She moved from her parents house to the one she shared with Edward after their wedding. But that was the sacrifice she had to make if she wanted to have the life she had been dreaming of since she was a little girl. Mary Frank held her purse tight against her chest and walked through the different streets and alleys of the colorful city.

It was Julie Anderson, Jim's wife, who told her about that woman. She said that after her mother died, she spent a few years in New Orleans with her cousins. And that one day, her aunt Mabelle began to feel feverish and sick all sudden. It only got worse and worse to a point in which the woman couldn't even stand from her bed without collapsing. Julie told her that her uncle, as soon as he came back from work, headed out of the house and claimed that he _had to find Constance_. By the time they arrived, Mabelle's fever was out of control, making her delirious. _The only thing she did_  Julie told her _was put her hands on her. One on her forehead, the other one on her chest. And then she prayed. It was a miracle. She stopped shivering. She didn't babble anymore. She breathed evenly and then she opened her eyes and smiled_. Mary Frank asked how such thing was possible. It was impossible not to become a little cynical when your husband was a doctor, no matter how faithful you were. _It's their gift_ , Julie answered easily. _It's what traiteuses and traiteurs do_.

Mary Frank eventually stopped thinking about the woman and her healings hands. And she only returned after the third miscarriage. When the fourth came, she asked Julie about her and where could she find her. _Constance Guillory. She lived close to the bayou_  she replied, not asking her why. Mary Frank liked Julie a little more and held her in higher regard since that moment. The other women from the congregation always looked down at her and her _childish attitude_. Perhaps the fact she still clung to the idea of miracles and magic could save her from announced tragedy.

The young woman was rather happy that she lived _close_ the bayou, but not _on_ the bayou. It took her about ten minutes to start asking for directions and, eventually, could find a very small wooden house by the murky water. As soon as Mary Frank stepped on the porch, it creaked and the screen door opened. A man in his late twenties came out, doing the buttons of his shirt, probably in his way out to work. Mary Frank couldn't help but wonder what he did for a living and what kind of job waited until he had lunch to begin. Or maybe he returned home to save some money and quickly headed back to his duty.

“Yes?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows, looking at her. At what she was wearing. At the pearls around her neck that made her look out of place.

“I came to see Constance Guillory.” Mary Frank forced the words out of her mouth. “Are you her son?”

“In law.” The man replied, rolling up his sleeves. “Eloy Roe.” he introduced himself briefly, not offering her a hand to shake. “You won't be able to find Constance, though.”

“She no longer lives here?”

“She died last Summer.”

Mary Frank felt petrified. She licked her lips and looked down, trying to not lose composure. She gripped her purse a little more. She came here for one reason only. She'll be _damned_ if she leaves without the confirmation that her child will get to experience life. “There's anyone... there's anyone else around here that can do what she does?”

The man, Eloy, brushed his hands over his trousers and looked over his shoulder. “My wife and her sister are still inside. Maybe they can help you out.” He offered while he held the screen door for her and opened the second one. The smell of warm food greeted her first. Then the vision of a modest living room.

“Thank you.” a small smile appeared over her thin lips.

“Have a nice day, ma'am, and good luck.” That last addition made her think that probably he had been aware of his mother in law's gift. Mary Frank nodded at him one last time, grateful, before she entered inside the house. Eloy closed the door for her and heard the porch creak again when he walked away.

Mary was quick to assume that his wife was the young woman holding a baby against her chest, still sitting down. The other girl, perhaps a little younger, collected all the dirty dishes from lunch. Their eyebrows were thin as they arched with mild surprise to see a stranger in their house. Perhaps that was something that stopped happening ever since their mother died.

“Hello?” Began the eldest sister, rocking the baby that was silent, but moved his little hands, gripping and pulling his mother's dress.

Mary Frank had to stop herself from mourning before losing. She was there to achieve a family. To keep her baby in her womb. She could not long for motherhood when she still had a chance to have it. “My name is Mary Frank Sledge.” She introduced herself briefly. “I was hoping to find Constance but your husband told me...” The woman with the baby nodded and Mary Frank didn't feel like she should bother herself to end that sentence.

The youngest left the dishes back on the table and placed her hands on her hips, eyeing her carefully. Mary Frank forced herself to continue. She didn't even dare to approach them. “Maybe you could help me?” How unusual would it be for daughters to learn from their mothers?

“We can't do that.” quickly interrupted the youngest.

“I am willing to pay anything,” perhaps it was too soon to say that, but she was desperate and wealthy. She could afford anything for her family. And she would. “money won't be a problem.”

“No, even if we could help you we would not accept your money. It's just... What Elise is trying to say is that we don't have the gift. It's passed down to the opposite gender. From mothers to sons, from fathers to daughters.” Explained the eldest, with an apologetic smile. “And we have no brothers.”

Mary Frank continued to look at the both of them, her mouth felt dry and her throat tight. “There's... no other way? There are no other people like your grandmother around here? I'm pregnant and I don't... I can't...” she began, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.

And then silence. None of them dared to look at her directly. The baby started gurgling happily as he pulled onto his mother's dress once again. That made Elise talk once again, a little rushed, like she was very uncomfortable. Or like she was taking a chance. Mary Frank couldn't really tell the difference at the moment. “Suzette and I know a woman. Maybe she can help you.”

Suzette gave her sister a little look and pressed her lips. Then she held her son closer to her chest. After a little pause she mumbled: “Maybe but her help is a little pricey.”

“That's fine.” Mary Frank didn't allow herself to sob or cry. She was trying to find a solution, so she repeated: “Money is not a problem.”

“Come with me.” Elise said before her sister could add anything else.

Mary Frank was grateful that the Sun was still up when Elise started to lead her towards a trial made of wood over the dirty water of the swamp. She was constantly looking at her feet, like at any given moment an alligator would emerge to bite her ankles. But it got even worse. To Mary Frank's dismay, they reached a dock. Elise got on the pirogue first and held out a hand, to help her. Mary Frank closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She asked God for some more patience and some more strength before she accepted Elise's hand.

She barely spoke to her, and Mary Frank appreciated the gesture. She was far too nervous about the fact that she didn't know how to swim that she didn't worry about what would be waiting for her once they would cross this Hell.

And perhaps she should have. The house... Well, the _shack_ was practically falling apart. It looked like it would sink as soon as they would step on it. Elise helped her once again and opened the screen door for her, as her brother in law did with their own house moments ago. Mary Frank was far more doubtful this time.

“It will be okay. I'll wait here.” Elise promised. Mary Frank considered, for the very first, that this could be a trap. To either get her money or do far worse. She forced herself to trust and believe since there was no other option left for her.

The hut reeked of spices and smoke. The wood on the floor and all over the walls looked moist, and had patches of moss here and there. The corners were greasy after cooking meals inside of a place with no windows for so long. The candles were not enough to illuminate the room. She squinted, as she slowly got used to the darkness. Everything was out of place: there were at least three different pots filled to the brim with different concotions. Not all of them looked edible. Behind the hanging pans and ladles, she found a little table. And then a toddler.

He was probably two years old. His skin looked naturally tanned, his hair curly and dark. His eyes were wide and green. Mary Frank was about to speak and ask him if he was there all by himself before he continued eating. He clearly didn't know how to hold a spoon properly and spilled some of the bean soup back into the bowl as soon as it approached his mouth. She felt a pang of motherly compassion and approached the little boy.

“Where are your parents, honey?” she asked resting a hand on the back of a chair that was far too big for a boy his age or size. He blinked once again and looked at her. Perhaps it was the color of his eyes or the contrast with his complexion that really made them stand out. When he didn't answer, Mary Frank was about to warn Elise that the kid was there all by himself. That they should to stay until his parents would come back.

Her eyes moved from the door to the little boy once again and saw how he offered her the spoon with a small and hopeful smile. That earned him a gentle caress from the woman. It only encouraged him and moved the spoon closer to her face. Mary Frank sighed and decided that first she would help him and then... Ask Elise if this was some sort of a cruel joke. Or if... Or if their solution to her problem was to adopt this boy. Maybe she would lose another baby and he already lost his parents. Maybe they came over to feed him, watch after him but they didn't dare to take him to an orphanage. She decided to not jump into conclusion or ruin any chance. She really didn't know how they were going to aid her. She had to keep trusting.

She picked him up and sat him down on her lap, feeding him. The soup was still warm. And so were the pots she saw when she entered inside of the shack. So there was either someone here, as well, or they were about to come back. Mary Frank looked around and saw that behind her there were two doors. She bounced a little bit when one of them suddenly opened.

“Merry!!” called the woman as she walked out of the even darker room. “Oh, you _petit diable_!” She approached them and pointed at the boy with a long finger, scolding him. “We talked about this, you are no longer a _bébé_! You eat all by yourself!” The skin of the woman was dark and wrinkled. She didn't look very tall, but she didn't have much time to appreciate that detail, far too distracted by her blue clothes. The colors seemed to glow in that darkness.

The child, Merry, chuckled and denied. “Oh, you don't eat alone anymore?” The owner of the hut insisted. “Well, I ain't gonna feed you no more!” She grumbled as she sat down. Merry leaned against Mary Frank and played with her necklace as the woman was still far too puzzled to utter a word. The spoon was momentarily fogotten inside the bowl. “Speak up! Come on!”

Mary Frank parted her lips, finally and whispered. “I came here for...”

“For my help, yes.” The woman said exasperated. “Who brought you here? Elise?”

She nodded this time.

“That leech.” she shook her head. “Always wanting coins.” Mary Frank thought that it made sense. Maybe that was why the girl was so quick to bring up a solution. Like that she could get some money out of it. “I ain't no traiteuse. I'm not Constance. I make deals, nothing is for free.” She made a special emphasis on ther rules.

Mary Frank frowned, bringing the spoon back to Merry's mouth and he tugged the sleeve of her dress: “Then what are you?”

“Ever heard about Voodoo, _chère_?”

Mary Frank paled. She looked around and the more her eyes got used to her surrounding the more paganism she saw around her. She turned all rigid, earning a whine of discomfort from Merry as he still tried to get attention and soup. _Witchcraft_ was the only word she could think of.

“Oh, wipe that scared look off that Catholic face of yours!” The woman waved a hand. “You won't go to Hell for speaking to me.” Her voice quickly became bored, like she this was something that happened more often than not. “So, ask me.”

“I... I don't know if...” Mary Frank babbled.

“So you don't want me to save your child?” The woman leaned forward, clasping her hands together. Mary Frank furrowed her eyebrows. “That's why you are here, aren't you, Marie?”

She could have corrected her, give her real name. But once again... “How do you know that?”

“I am Madame Mercier, _chère_ , I know everything there's to know about you.” The priestess grinned, confident and satisfied with her face of surprise. “So, shall we do some business?”

Mary Frank was tempted to ask why she had been put in this situation to begin with. Was this a test or her only chance to save her child? She closed her eyes and finally rubbed her face with her free hand as Merry played with the spoon.

“Can you promise me I'll manage to keep this one?” she asked without opening her eyes, allowing herself to be tempted. She would condemn her soul if that implied saving her child's.

“This one and as many others that might come in the future.”

She offered far more than what she came for. Mary Frank finally looked at her and doubted before asking: “What's your price?”

Madame Mercier approached her chair and for a moment she thought she would take Merry away from her arms. Her hand moved past the little kid and rested on her stomach. “You carry a savior.” she began. “ _Un petit garçon_ , I can see it.” It was her turn to close her eyes. Her fingers curled and dug lightly against her flesh. “With soothing hands and a gentle spirit. Exactly what I need.”

Mary Frank felt alarmed then. “What do you mean?” her voice became firmer. She was not going to give her her child.

“Your boy's gonna save mine.”

She looked down at the kid the first thing she thought was that Madame Mercier was far too old to be his mother. His grandmother, perhaps. But that doesn't really matter, does it? “Is he sick?” Mary Frank asked, placing a hand over his forehead. Merry's eyes were big and bright, perhaps a little unusual but far from sad. They shone with childish mischief. Not sickness or worry.

The hand of the older woman caressed the kid's cheek and he looked delighted to have so much attention. “Not yet.” the priestess answered. “But his soul will rot. And I won't be enough.”

“Do you want to sacrifice my son to save your kid?” Mary Frank barely recognized the wrath in her own voice.

“Oh, don't be a fool!” What did those churches teach them? To fear any belief that didn't focus on Holy Water and Virgins? “I will ask you to send him to me when my Merry needs him. Then he can return home, sweet home, Marie.”

“When?” she demanded to know.

“You don't listen to me, _chère_. Whenever he needs him.” Madame Mercier repeated. “Might be in five years, in ten, or in twenty.”

“And then he will be back?”

“He'll be free as a bird.”

“You promise?”

“I never break my word, Marie.”

Mary Frank took a few seconds to think. She could either risk the lives of two kids, or perhaps save them. She caressed her stomach, absently as Merry cuddled her, making himself comfortable against her chest as he absolutely forgot about his meal. That innocent need for protection made her rest her cheek against the crown of his head, feeling the coarse texture of his curls.

“I save your boy. Yours saves my Merry. Sounds fair to me.” Madame Mercier said as she looked at the toddler. The small yet soft smile over her lips made Mary Frank think that maybe they were doing a pact to obtain the very same: a long and happy life for those they should care about.

“Very well.” she finally whispered. “But if I ever hear that you mistreat him, I'll take him back home myself.”

Madame Mercier chuckled. “Ah, Marie, Marie. Of course.” she patted her shoulder as she stood up.

“And don't make him do anything _strange_. I'll know if you keep him away from God.” She felt bold enough to add.

“Don't you use that insolent tone with me. I'm sure your Mama raised you better than that.” Madame Mercier approached one of the concoctions and began to fill two glass bottles. “A teaspoon every morning before having breakfast until you reach the third trimester. You hear me? No more. No less.” It was a warning and a scolding at the very same time.

“You don't want any money?” Mary Frank asked once again as she stood up, balancing Merry on her left hip. Both sisters said she was a little pricey, but she was sure that offer her son as a savior was the most a parent could give. That's what the Lord Himself did. Still, she wanted to be overly careful since her happiness relied on that woman.

“Pay Elise, it's her who is saving money to be able to buy a wedding dress.” she huffed, exchanging the little boy for the bottles. Mary Frank considered that only with those she could, at least, have three pregnancies. She carefully put them inside of her purse.

“What if it doesn't work?” she whispered, with one last doubt.

“You think I'd let my _bébé_ go to waste just like that?” Merry wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed his cheek against hers. He smiled at Mary Frank and she thought that his devilish nature was, actually, quite endearing. She pinched his chin one last time and denied. “Exactly. Now, go! This brat needs to finish his lunch and take a nap before he gets messy!”

“ _Fais do-do_ , _Mamaw_?” Merry finally spoke, swaying his legs.

“Yes! Will you be a good boy and fall asleep when I tell you to?” She asked as Merry denied, giggling. “Ah, of course not!” She put a hand on Mary Frank's back and began to push her out of her house. Quite literally. She didn't complain, but she thought those were terrible manners and that she was not, in the end, the greatest host she ever encountered. But it was undeniable that she was the one that did the most for her and her family. Once they reached the porch, Elise was still there, waiting on a rocking chair. Madame Mercier didn't bother herself to look at her while she squinted. “Ah, oh, Marie, before you leave... Don't you worry about his humming heart, huh? Might keep the boy from doing something stupid.”

“What do you mean w— ”

“Shoo!!”

She slammed the screen door shut and then the wooden one. Mary Frank stood there, dumbfounded. Did she really finish their chat just like that?

“And that's her having a nice day.” Elise sighed as she stood up. “I advise you to leave while you can.”

Mary Frank decided to follow her advice and get on the pirogue. In their way back, it was her who decided to break the silence and ask her about her wedding. Elise blushed a little bit, perhaps ashamed that she discovered that she usually obtained a little benefit from the Madame's deals. Mary Frank insisted on giving her a generous tip as soon as they reached her house, saying that she was earning far more than five dollars. The life of her son had no price. Elise thanked her as many times as she folded the bill before keeping it safe under her blouse.

Of course, everything could be a lie. And maybe the beverage was nothing but dirty water, and they would split the money as soon as she would leave. But... _Blessed are those who believe without seeing_. Now that was the only thing left for her, the last sacrifice.

*** * ***

She barely left her hotel room for the following two days. She woke up early and the first thing she did in the morning was take a teaspoon of that curious remedy, that like any other, tasted awful and made her mouth taste sour. She washed it down with her breakfast and then laid down on the bed. Madame Mercier said that she would have a little boy. That he would have healing hands and a gentle spirit. And a humming heart. Whatever that is supposed to mean.

Just to daydream about holding a baby in her arms, look after him and simply see him grow up put a smile on her lips. Ever since she had been a little girl, she dreamed with the idea of having a family. Her mother was... a little bit distant. Not all that loving. By no way cruel or vicious to her, but neither sweet or warm. Mary Frank liked to hug her dolls and pretend they were her daughters. And she did so mostly when her mother failed to show her the affection that she knew she had for her. She only wished she would have showed it to her some more. That was a mistake she would not make with her children. She would make sure of that.

With a hand on her stomach and the promise of a loving family, she returned back to Mobile. Edward seemed happy to see her again and asked her all about her brother, how he was doing. Mary Frank smiled and lied. She shouldn't, but each time she was far more convinced that God would appreciate her effort and forgive those little faults to allow her to have the life she always dreamed about.

*** * ***

**MOBILE, NOVEMBER 1923**

Mary Frank gave birth in their own bed. Her husband assisted her during the delivery. He comforted her saying that she was doing well. That nothing was unusual and that she was nothing to fear. Everything was okay. God was looking after her and her husband was there to solve anything could have happened. But nothing did. Everything went as planned. Without any complication. The pain she endured was nothing compared with the reward she felt when she got to hold him for the first time. Madame Mercier had been correct all this time: he was a little boy whose presence only was soothing and beautiful. There was something about him that made her think that he was a little miracle.

They named him Eugene.

 _Well born_.


	2. Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith was very important for Eugene. His father was not so... devoted, but his mother always encouraged him to believe. That God put him on this Earth to do good. To offer others peace and love. And that he could only keep that ability (sometimes she said gift, but that word made him uncomfortable, like it was a big responsibility) if his soul was pure. Eugene always tried to do what he thought it was right. Fair.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Eugene: I am DISGUSTED. I am REVOLTED. I dedicate my ENTIRE LIFE to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and this is the thanks I get????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
> 
> First of all, thank you very much to those who commented and left kudos. I really appreciate it!!  
> Now enjoy some more garbage :)

**MOBILE, MAY 1927**

Eugene was three years old when his little brother was born.

Edward Jr. (he was rather happy he was the only Eugene in the house) was small and all pink. He kept his eyes closed and slept far more than Eugene expected him to. When Mama and Papa said that he would have a little brother, they promised him that they would play together. All the time. That was the only reason why he accepted the fact that wouldn't be the littlest one in the family anymore. Plus, the idea of growing up was becoming far more interesting to him the more he thought about it. He would have someone to look after. He could feel proud that he was in charge of his little brother. They would all flatter him. So he assumed it would be pretty alright.

But Eddie did nothing at all.

 _Well_. He cried a lot. Other than that? Nothing fun. Sometimes he sat down on his parents' bed, looking at his crib and waiting for him to wake up. And do something. Anything. But he only cried and cried. And he ended up noticing that each time he cried, it was because he wanted something. And he always got it from his parents. Eugene thought it was unfair. When he cried, they told him that he had to calm down and talk to them, like a big boy. That throw a tantrum would get him nowhere. And that was, exactly, what Eddie did. Every time!!

Eugene sighed a little bit when Eddie woke up just to cry once again. He jumped off the bed and approached the crib, wrapping his fingers around the bars and kneeling on the floor to be at his same level.

“You are such a crybaby, Eddie.” He mumbled with a small pout. Eugene liked Eddie. He simply thought he was boring. Mama told him he would have to be patient and wait a little more until he could play with him. All he could do, by now, is look after him. Make sure he was happy around him.

Eugene looked at the door, over his shoulder before he looked down at him once again. He didn't like it when Eddie cried. It made him feel sad. So he decided that he shouldn't wait until his mother would get there. He had been warned that he couldn't hold Eddie unless she was there. So he didn't. Eugene slipped one of his arms between the bars of the crib and caressed Eddie's moist cheek with his fingers.

“Shhh...” he mumbled, trying to mimick his mother. When Eddie cried, Mama always soothed him by hushing him and saying: _It's okay, it's okay_. Eddie's eyes were big and wide and full of tears. When he looked at him, Eugene wanted to pout again, bigger, something inside of him wanting to mirror Eddie's sadness. But he knew better. He moved his hand from his cheek to his forehead. His thumb caressed the thin hair crowning the baby's head. Eugene didn't dare to say anything else.

Eddie continued to look at him and kicked the air before he began to soothe himself. The last big fat tears rolled down his chubby cheeks and brought one of his fists to his mouth, finding comfort like that while sucking on his fingers. Eugene smiled a bit, proud of himself, as he heard his mother's shoes made some noise against their wooden floor (her mom's shoes were the only ones that made any noise in their house).

Eugene looked up at his mom with a happy smile on his lips as he kept his hand on Eddie's head, a little scared that as soon as he would move it away, he would sob once again. Mary Frank smiled back at him and Eugene always felt tremendously happy when his mother did that. It made him want to hug her legs and never let her go.

“Are you taking care of your brother, honey?” Mary Frank approached him and caressed Eugene's head. Just like Madame Mercier said: a little boy with a gentle spirit and healing hands. The baby looked calm with his brother's hand over his forehead. There was no doubt that her Eugene was gifted. And for some reason, sometimes she thought about the little boy she found back inside of the shack, with a spoon and hopeful smile. It made her happy to think that, someday, he would save the boy's soul. Her Eugene was a little angel. He would do so much good.

“Yes.” he nodded, looking satisfied and absolutely like a grown up since he could take care of his brother like his Mama did.

Mary Frank picked Eddie from his crib and sat down on the edge of the bed. Eugene was quick to join her, caressing his little brother's cheeks and hands. He was soft and chubby and cute. And sometimes Eugene wanted to hug him really tight.

“I want to play with him.” he mumbled after a few minutes of silence, noticing that Eddie was slowly falling asleep once again.

“That will have to wait a little bit. He's still so small.” Mary Frank replied.

“How long?!” he asked, eagerly.

“A couple of years.”

Eugene sighed and allowed himself to fall on his back over the bed. He would have wanted to skip that part, no matter how cute Eddie was.

*** * ***

**AUGUST, 1929**

Eugene met Sid Phillips when he was five years old.

That Sunday morning was simply terrible. Eugene huffed and puffed, squirming on the uncomfortable wooden bench. His mother kept him from moving. He wanted to take his jacket off and cry. His cheeks were on fire and he wanted to go back home. Church was not fun. No fun at all. Mama said it was important for him to learn. He just wanted to fall asleep on her lap or play outside. It all depended on how much he slept the previous night.

Eugene could barely whine since his mother hushed him before he could even think about it. His father gave him a sympathetic look and patted his son's head, moving the sweated locks away from his forehead, in some attempt to ease his son's misery. He leaned against the source of compassion. Mama was sweet and kind, but she became strict and silent inside of the church. Eugene doubted he would ever understand that change in her.

The little boy simply looked forward and tried to be a _big boy_ about it. Two benches ahead them, there was another child struggling to stay still. From his spot, Eugene could only see a mass of golden curls that moved from one side to the other, being reprimanded and stopped each time he moved a bit too much. To see that someone was suffering as much as he was comforted Eugene a little bit. He continued to stare, because there was really nothing else to look at (the priest was really not that interesting to him) and because he was sure that if he looked for long enough, something would happen.

And so it did.

The kid turned a little bit and Eugene could see a pair of blue eyes looking at him. Eugene considered that hiding behind his father's arm would be a wonderful idea at the moment, but the boy smiled. Eugene smiled back just to be betrayed seconds later when he stuck his tongue out at him and turned once again.

*** * ***

This game of smiles and mockery repeated itself every Sunday morning for at least five more weeks. Then, his father noticed the whole interaction when Eugene pouted and rested his forehead against his arm. Once the sermon was over (Eugene really liked that part, when they were allowed to leave), his father held his hand while his mother chatted with Julie. Eugene wouldn't have minded staying with his mom. Julie always smiled at him and told him that he grew up since the last time she saw him (that was, perhaps, two or three days ago, since she had the habit to visit them). Eugene sure liked the idea of becoming very tall.

Either way, his father held his hand and saw he walked straight towards the boy with curly hair and mean smirks. Eugene tried to back down a few times but nothing stopped Papa from introducing himself to the parents of the boy. Eugene hid behind his father's legs and looked at the other kid.

He smiled even wider, now. Eugene felt uneasy, practically waiting for the kid to either bite him or bark at him. But he didn't. He kept smiling and looking at him. And up at his parents, tugging his mother's skirt before he said: “Can we play outside?”

And as soon as his mother nodded, Eugene was dragged out of the church. His name was Sidney, but he insisted on being called Sid. Because Sidney sounds girlish (and awfully similar to Sydney), he said furrowing his nose. Eugene didn't dare to chuckle, not wanting to lose his chance at having a friend. You see, Eddie was _still_ little. He couldn't risk the possibility of finally having someone to play with.

Turns out that Sid was not a complete savage. He sure peeled his knees each time they play together (for about thirty minutes each Sunday and pretty much any other day in which they asked their parents to be taken to each other house), but he was nice and Eugene liked him. He liked him so much he spoke about him all the time during dinner. About all the things they did and about all the things they spoke about.

Eugene could say without any doubt was that Sid loved baseball as much as he loved Mary Houston. One afternoon, a couple of weeks before December (those Christmas were especially sad, many of the families they knew had to leave Mobile because something _crashed_ ), Sid showed him a signed picture of Babe Ruth himself. Eugene had no idea of who he was, but he gasped either way, to make Sid smile and nod, all proud of himself. He said that his father promised that he would take him to see the Yankees play when he would be a little older.

They played under the supervision of Mr Phillips. Eugene knew he was terrible at it, but he still had a lot of fun. As he had fun when Sid spoke about Mary. He never dared to speak _to_ her. He turned very red each time he saw her and ran away so he wouldn't see her. In the same way Eugene began to like baseball because of Sid, he began to like Mary Houston because of his friend. So they would have more things in common, not because he thought there was nothing special about her. Eugene didn't really understand love. Or romance. Or why it was so endearing. But he didn't mind pretending a little bit here and there.

*** * ***

**NOVEMBER, 1933**

Eugene cried when he saw Deacon for the very first time.

Eddie woke up him up, bouncing on his bed. His left forearm was still protected with a plaster cast. Eugene stopped worrying about Eddie growing up as soon as he became friends with Sid. He already had someone to play with. But that didn't keep his little brother from chasing the two older boys each time they headed out of the house when they wanted to play. Eugene always told him that he was very little, and that he should stay with Mama. Something Eddie always ignored. Two weeks ago, when Eugene and Sid were riding their bikes, Eddie tried very hard to keep up with them. The afternoon ended with the two friends dragging back home a crying and clearly injured boy.

Now he was all smiley and happy because it was Eugene's birthday and he was dying to see what they got him. And see how much he could beg before Santa would bring him something similar.

Eugene grumbled a little bit and rubbed his eyes as he sat down. His mother ordered Eddie to sit down, as well, before he fell once again. His little brother didn't risk it. He leaned against Eugene's arm heavily when their father placed a rather large present on the oldest boy's lap. The box vibrated (or maybe it was Eddie, who was clearly beyond excited at this point) and had a few holes in it. Eugene frowned a bit, puzzled. He barely had time to open it before the top of the box fell backwards and a snout appeared. Then two big eyes and some fluffy ears.

Eugene and Eddie gasped, at the very same time. “It's a puppy!” Eddie squealed. “It's a puppy, Gene, it's a puppy!” He quickly patted the animal was sniffing Eugene's shoulders as he held him against his chest. The older brother was trembling and hiding his face on the dog's back, clearly sobbing but stubborn enough to not let it show. Eddie did the talking for him, and he let him: “What's the puppy's name, Papa?”

“His name is Deacon. He's very little, still. You'll have to teach him every trick you know.” Their father caressed Eugene's back as he kept holding Deacon, who licked his cheeks, erasing his tears as soon as he shed them.

Eddie was the first one to jump out of bed to hug their mother's legs. “Can we go out and play with him? Please? Please?!” he repeated tightening his grasp aroung her a little more at each second that passed by and he didn't get an answer. Mary Frank replied that they had to get dressed and have some breakfast first, then they were allowed to play with their new pet.

Eugene remembered every single one of birthdays (or so he said), but that was the very best one he ever had. Not only he got to add another figure to his age (ten years old... he was _almost_ an adult!), but they also got to add a new member to their family.

*** * ***

**APRIL, 1935**

They didn't like his hair.

Eugene began to notice around the age of seven. He heard some women tell his mother that _he was such an affable boy for someone with that hair_. What were they trying to imply? When he asked his Mama about it, she told him to not pay them any attention. To forget about it.

Every morning, before going to class, he brushed his hair. Sometimes he inspected it closely, to see if there was anything wrong with it. It was thin and soft to the touch. It was shiny when he washed it and reddish no matter the weather. Eugene knew they didn't like his hair, but he didn't know why.

He found out when he was eleven, after Sunday school. Faith became very important for Eugene. His father was not so... devoted, but his mother always encouraged him to believe. That God put him on this Earth to do good. To offer others peace and love. And that he could only keep that ability (sometimes she said _gift_ , but that word made him uncomfortable, like it was a big responsibility) if his soul was pure. Eugene always tried to do what he thought it was right. Fair. And yet he didn't dare to speak up when a kid shoved him saying that _gingers_ were _liars by nature_ and _tried to trick people all the time_.

He stayed very still and looked down. Why? He was not a liar. Perhaps he lied a couple of times, mostly to get away with something he did. Or to not get caught. But never for the sake of lying or because he enjoyed tricking others. He was shoved once again and Eugene remembered his mother telling him to not get involved in fights. That violence destroyed any point he might have; even if he was right. That as soon would hurt another, his soul would turn a little heavier. He didn't want his spirit to become a stone over his shoulders.

So Eugene closed his eyes and tried to count to ten, to soothe the frustration and the anger he felt for being picked on for such a stupid reason. It was not like he had much of a say when it comes to his hair color. And he didn't even dislike it! He didn't really care about it. It was just _hair_.

Before he reached seven, he was shoved once again. His prudence was seen as indifference, and there was nothing that made others far more furious than the lack of a reaction. Eugene made the mistake to stand far too close to the stairs. With that third shove (far more violent to the ones before), he fell down the stairs under the surprised glance of the other kids right before they all ran in different directions so they wouldn't be blamed for that little _accident_.

Eugene refused to cry. And even less when Sid arrived. He helped him to stand up and let him lean against him when he saw that Eugene was limping. As soon as they found his parents, Mary Frank embraced him tightly as his father tried to see how injured he was. Seeing that it was impossible to pry the kid away from his wife's arms, he began to ask Sid what happened. Since the boy arrived right before it happened, he could only shrug.

“I tripped and fell.” he mumbled with a little voice before his father could ask Sid a second time for something he truly didn't know. There he was, lying after being called a liar for no reason. He might as well use that in his favor, right? If he already he was already a sinner without having the chance to sin... It didn't make him feel any better, though. It made him feel guilty, and he was already thinking ahead about all the prayers he would have to whisper before going to bed that night.

*** * ***

**MARCH, 1939**

They kept calling him a ginger but Eugene stopped caring. They made a few puns here and there, casually reminding him that his kind were either _tricksters_ (once again) or _libidinous_. The last one came around when they were fifteen and people seemed to only be able to think about one thing and one thing only. Of course, Sid was not any different and looked conflicted each time he heard the implication that Eugene could have some natural sensuality that he lacked.

“I mean, you never kissed anyone.” Sid repeated once again as they headed back to Eugene's.

“Nope.”

“I would know.”

“Yep.”

“Because you never kissed anyone.”

“What's your point, Phillips?”

“Okay, what if it's true?” Sid finally said, exasperated.

Eugene frowned. “What's true?”

“That redheads are like... _you know_.” He raised his eyebrows higher than it should be permitted.

“No, I _don't_ know.”

“Like...” he looked around and approached him. “Chick magnets.”

Eugene snorted and shook his head. Of course his friend would be stupid enough to say that. “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.”

“Could be!”

“Do you see any girl around? Ever?” Eugene gestured to let the very lonely road be the finest evidence he could bring to this stupid case.

“I mean, no. But what if...” he touched the tip of his nose and Eugene felt the need to smack him.

“You are terrified that Mary Houston might fall for me. As she should.” if Sid was going to be a pain in the ass, then he could play that game just fine.

“Mary is going to marry me. Just wait and see.” Sid grumbled a little bit as he punched him on the arm.

Eugene groaned before he shoved him away. “You won't even speak to her.”

“So what?”

“ _So what?_ So she is never going to notice you. Or see that you like her. And you had this crush for years, Sid. Do something about it or move on. I am exhausted.” He was only human and he was getting tired of Mary Houston and her silky hair, beautiful eyes and wonderful lips. If he was brutally honest, Eugene stopped thinking about Mary Houston as soon as he stopped trying to be good at baseball. Once he made sure that his friendship with Sid could be supported on other things. Such as... being foolish boys that didn't know the first thing about growing up. Or discuss whose mother was more suffocating.

Not that his mother was the kind to go after him all day long. But she sure was becoming a little clingy now that her two boys were going through _those complicated years_. Her questions became a little intrusive and Eugene ran out of patience easier than he did a few years ago. Even though, she was especially abrasive about him studying medicine and trying to learn from his father. She even suggested going with her father and start getting familiar with the job. Eugene let her know many times that he had no intentions to become a doctor. Something she loved to answer with a: _you never know when someone might need your help, honey_. There was no need for her to be so cryptical about everything. He hated it, thanks.

“When the time is right...” Sid began with his old excuse, bringing him back to the moment.

“The time is never right, for you.”

“Oh, excuse me. Now you know when it's the right time to speak to a girl.”

“Of course, I am a chick magnet.” he pointed at his hair.

“You are the worst friend I ever had.” Sid grumbled.

“That's very true, Sid, that's _very_ _true_.” Eugene hummed before he smiled as soon as he saw Deacon running straight towards them. “C'mere, boy!”

*** * ***

**SEPTEMBER, 1939**

It was the worst way to end the week. When Eugene closed the door, he saw his parents and Eddie standing in front of the radio with Tee and Rose. It was the very first time Eugene entered inside of his house and didn't feel at peace. Didn't feel the brightness and the warmth that in his mind was associated with the idea of home. There was a heaviness that could only be caused by worry and fear. Eugene felt something itching his palms and the back of his hands, forcing him to touch the back of his mother, who was the one who stood closer to him. She exhaled and wrapped an arm around him, kissing his left temple.

“What's going on?” he whispered while his voice was suffocated by a murderous applause from the radio. Each time he heard the whistling noise of the planes flying, his pulse began to speed up.

He couldn't understand a thing. He could recognize the language that was being spoken: German. Then the translation was rushed and at some points doubtful: _I told the Poland ambasssors three weeks ago that if the situation continued as it was... if_ _Danzig_ _was_ _prosecuted as it was, that if Poland tried to ruin Danzig economically, that the situation would not be tolerated_.

As the speech continued, they constantly interrupted it to inform the listeners that both France and England had in their schedule to discuss the situation that was currently happening. It was the false pretense of composure. The world was about be torn apart. He remembered his father talking to his friends about what happened to Spain. And what Germany and Italy did to the country to help Fascism win. And how the Civil War ended with yet another ruthless leader in power because of the collaboration of Herr Führer and Il Duce. But, perhaps, the exception of one country did not feel like a real threat and that's why no one did anything about it. Now it went beyond that. It was an alliance that wished to spread a sick ideology all over a continent.

Eugene felt like he was suffocating. He could feel Eddie's confusion and his father's desolation. For his brother, this was so new that he barely could wrap his mind around the idea of living through something like that. His father, on the other hand, was about to see how history was bound to repeat itself. Tee's agony was very similar to his mother's. They felt the same and the emotion was just as heavy: the fear of having to send your own children to war. He reached out for their butler and squeezed his arm, not knowing how he could comfort him in any other way. The man who always had a smile for Eugene couldn't even look at him.

Eugene didn't know how to comfort them. He felt overwhelmed. For some reason, it felt awfully personal. Like he could shield them all that uncertainty. Like he _should_ know what to do it. Deacon's weight over his feet made him understand that he was not the only one that could feel the change in the mood. The fear anyone had to break the silence, not wanting to say the words that had not been pronounced yet. The word _war_ should only be spoken when it was a reality and not a way to alarm society.

But, in the end, after so much thinking and so much suffering, it was Eddie who spoke with a very timid: “At least it's not here.” Something that could sound careless and foolish but that perhaps crossed all of their minds at some point. _It's not us, not yet. We don't have to deal with this_. During the following months, the politicians spoke like his younger brother and how crazy it would be for them to join _yet another European war_. Take a look at what happened the last time.

*** * ***

**DECEMBER, 1941**

And then the safety of living an ocean away from _everything_ disappeared when Pearl Harbor was attacked two years after that devastating Friday. It had been only a couple of weeks after Eugene turned eighteen. The whole nation was waiting for President Roosevelt to make the speech that would initiate yet another war. Tee and Rose were sent home that morning. His parents considered that today was a day to be spent with their families. Many of those were about to be broken for the following years.

_Yesterday, December 7 th, 1941, a day which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the Naval and Air Forces of the Empire of Japan. _

His father was close to the radio, unable to sit down. His mother was on the couch, unable to stand up. Her hand was holding Eddie's, tight and praying under her breath. Eugene hands rested over his brother's shoulders, squeezing them, trying to soothe him like he did when he was nothing but a baby. Before heading downstairs, Eugene told him that he should not be scared. That he won't have to go. The war would be won before he would turn eighteen.

_The Unites States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its Emperor looking to the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has cause severe damage to American Naval and military forces._

Eugene, on the other hand... He had been toying with the idea of volunteering since last year, with the required registration of every man between the ages of 21 to 35. It was curious how last year he was too young to become a soldier and now every boy of eighteen would be sent away to fight the war and be forced to serve until the very end of the conflict and then, probably, for six months more.

_As commander in chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us. No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory._

His father was the first one to tell him: with his health issue, he was very likely to be turned down. Eugene's condition was truly not that important. When he was kid, his parents were perhaps a little more concerned about it. But his mother kept saying that it would be a _blessing in disguise_. His heart was not any weaker than it should be. Nor it gave him any sort of complication when it came to exercising or enduring certain situations. His father, as the doctor he was and as the role he had to fulfill during the Great War, told him that didn't matter much. That a murmur still fell in the category of heart conditions and that kept him from being fitting.

_With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph, so help us God. I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire._

Eugene had always been a dutiful son. It didn't matter that the one sending orders was his father, his mother, God or his own nation. He was needed and he had the right age. What kind of person would he be if he stayed at home while others risked their lives to fight the war? How would he be able to look at himself in the mirror while knowing that he was a coward? For Eugene there was no such thing as a _choice_. He _had_ to be part of this. He had to volunteer, learn as much as they would be able to teach him and then get on the first ship. Either to cross the Pacific or to the Atlantic. There were so many battles to be won.

*** * ***

Her son was devastated. For the past two weeks, he had been turned down in five different occasions. It reached a point in which they had been called and requested to keep their son from trying to volunteer again. Mary Frank promised that she would do as much as possible to speak to him. But she knew the way her Eugene was. If he felt morally obligued to do something, he wouldn't stop. And that was terrifying. How he, and many other boys his age, felt like they had to give their lives for this. Like not being able to become a soldier made them less... less of a man. She even heard about Anna and Gerard's son and how he tried to hang himself after being rejected for the second time. The woman cried and cried and Mary Frank remembered how fast she made it home that evening. And how hard she held her son.

Eugene had grown quiet and played with his fork during dinner. He didn't look at his parents, like he was not worthy of doing such. Mary Frank knew her son, and by simply looking at him, she could tell that he felt like he was hiding in a golden cage. That he felt like a coward and like a traitor. But he had to understand that destroy and kill was not why he was on Earth. He was born to save and to help. She wished he could see that his cause was honorable, and not pitiful.

Not even Deacon could help them. The dog usually rested his head on Eugene's knee and whined, hoping that he would smile again and play with him. But he only got a few pats on the head and a very sad look. The dog would not leave the eldest boy alone at any moment. And that made Mary Frank feel a little calmer.

Those were the saddest days of their lives. It was nothing but uncertainty and the first news of their troops. Eugene was always glued to the radio, either wishing for the war to be over or for him to be there. She looked at him from the couch as she kept sewing, trying to keep her worries for herself. She only turned her head when Rose told her that she received a letter. She thanked her and accepted the small envelope. It had no sender and it was addressed to M. F. Sledge. That was undoubtfully her. She knew what she would read right before opening it. But the quick and short note brought peace to her spirit. Like her son was about to be saved.

_Dear Marie,_

_Send me the boy after Christmas._

_M. Mercier_

She would rather send her son to sour old woman than send him to war. But first, she would had some explaining to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included the bullying to Eugene's hair color because I read (thanks Wikipedia) that in 'Catcher in the Rye' (published after WWII) there was this quote "People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily, but Allie [his dead brother] never did, and he had very red hair." So people were pretty much convinced that the hair color had something to do with someone's character. And it is known that catholics didn't like redheads that much. 
> 
> HISTORICAL EVENTS MENTIONED:  
> -Wall Street Crash of 1929 (blink and you miss it really)  
> -Invasion of Poland, 1939  
> -Attack on Pearl Harbor, 1941
> 
> Okay, and that would be all... By now. My idea is to publish every Friday, if possible. This week I post a little earlier because I have some time to write now, so... The next chapter is pretty much like this but focused on Snafu. I have the half of it written, already, but it's getting quite long and I don't know how I'll post it. Maybe post part one and then part two? Or the whole thing at once? We'll see how long it gets! I'm having fun, so far! Terrible English and repetitive vocabulary but hEY! ;;;)


	3. Malice (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And while Merriell was aware that he was a bad child, he wanted to keep his soul from going to waste. It was the only thing he had and God forbid he wanted to keep it! And while he was not very religious or believed that much in anything, he didn't want to be chained to an eternal punishment because of a poisonous gift.
> 
> OR
> 
> Merriell vc: so what if I am the monsTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay!!!!
> 
> Here we go with Snafu's backstory. What can I say? I really like to call him Merry, so you might see plenty of that in this one because this chapter is about his childhood. I'll post the second part (teenage years and until 1942) in two days, this Thursday. 
> 
> Let me know what you think? I REALLY appreciate every single person that leaves a comment or kudos. Truly, it's really motivating me to keep writing. And I'm very grateful that you deal with me and my garbage English. 
> 
> THANKS!

**NEW ORLEANS, FEBRUARY 1921**

“Please, Madame.” The girl had big eyes and tangled curls framing her angular face. She was scrawny even if she clearly went through labor a couple of weeks ago. Madame Mercier kept looking at the baby in her arms. “I don't know what to do.”

“You sure knew what to do nine months ago, _chère_.” the woman replied, sharply.

“I was in love, I was foolish. I...” Her voice trailed off and embraced her son closer. “I don't want him to pay for my mistakes. It's not fair.” she brushed the tip of her nose against his forehead. His smell was soothing. She loved to have him on her arms, but she knew she couldn't provide everything he needed.

“He's already payin'. You want to leave him 'ere.”

“I don't want to see my son die because I don't make enough money to support him.”

It sounded terribly sensible for a girl of... How old was she? Fifteen? Sixteen? The priestess could see the dead youth right behind her beautiful eyes. The Madame couldn't keep herself from asking: “Are you eighteen? Don't lie to me.”

The girl visibly doubted before she decided to tell truth. She denied.

“Was he?”

She denied once again.

“Do your parents about this?”

“Maman died when I was little. Papa... is no longer around. I... I don't have anyone.” she had to stop talking for a second to not let the tears stream down her cheeks. The baby moved one of his little hands and she quickly kissed his little fist. Her voice became sweet when she spoke to him.

“That's why you give 'im to me? Because you don't have anyone left?”

“I've been... lonely for a very long time.” she began with teary eyes. “All I wanted was someone in my life. He... loved me for a little while and then left. That was fine. It was... we both felt it. It was beautiful.” her son was made out of love. It was not something dirty like necessity or just lust. No. It was love, a very short kind of love, but still honest and pure. She was not ashamed, she was poor. It was different. “And there's nothing in this world I wouldn't want more than keeping him with me. Even if they would look down at me for not being married.” the world had no say when it comes to who she decided to love or when. But the world had plenty of power over her life through the money she did not have. “I love him.” And those words were so raw and so sincere that Madame Mercier couldn't possibly question them. “And that's why I want to give him to you. Because I love him. _So much_. And I want him to have a long and beautiful life.” her voice broke and the first tears finally rolled down her cheeks. “I want him to be loved. I want him to go to bed without worrying that he might not wake up in the morning. And I want angels looking after him. But all of that...” she shook her head and sniffed. “I can't... I don't have anything.”

“What makes you feel that he will be so loved 'ere? That he will have it so easy?” The shack was dark and small. Not the happiest place to raise a little boy.

“With you he has a chance.”

“What about an orph— ”

“No.” Her reply was immediate. That could only imply that she had been there for a few years. And that she survived the experience just barely. “He deserved better. He deserves... everything I cannot give him. I know you don't have much money. And I know you don't like kids that much.” she chuckled a bit, absolutely hopeless. “But I know your heart is good. I know it is.”

“You don't know a thing about me.” hissed Madame Mercier.

“Oh, but I do.” The girl whispered and kissed her son's forehead. “You like special people, don't you? There's no one more special than my Merriell. He's... It's enchanting to be around him.” she brushed the blanket away from his little face. “He only needs a little balance. He's... He's so special.”

Of course, that was her son she was talking about. And she was trying to make her adopt him. Madame Mercier took a step forward and finally looked down at the infant. He had his mother's eyes. Those stayed open for a little while, only. But they made her heart soften a little bit. The girl looked at her, hopefully. Life ruined her. And she was trying to do as much as possible so her son would not go through the same fate as she did.

“Please, Madame.” she whispered one last time, begging at that point.

“You give 'im to me and as soon as you leave, he is mine. You are not take 'im. You walk out of my house and you forget he ever existed.”

She shook her head, slowly. “Forget him? Never. He will live in my head until my death day. But I promise to not try to take him back. It's not like he'll ever want to hear from me ever again, either.” The pain of being given away must be undearable. She wanted Merriel to be happy. As happy as life would let him be. And then let a blessing fall from the sky and make him even hapier. “You don't even have to tell him I ever existed. Just... take care of my Merry. Protect him and save him from whatever that might hurt him. That's the only thing I ask of you.”

“You ask me the world, _fillette_.”

“I thought there were no impossibles for Madame Mercier.” she teased a bit with her moist cheeks and exhausted eyes. Madame felt compassion for her. She took the baby from her arms.

The girl exhaled and covered her face with her hands. She needed a couple of seconds to calm down before she thanked her with a very thin voice. She leaned over him and kissed his face and his hands, whispering: _You are loved, Merry, you are so loved_. She caressed his belly soothingly and then focused her eyes on the woman again. Madame Mercier felt like she would dream with her eyes for nights. And then she would have to learn to live with them through her son.

“What's your name?” she asked, as carefully as she could as the girl regained some strength.

“Alma. Alma Chenier.” she answered, forcing herself to stop touching the baby and getting used to the idea that she was back to face the world all alone once again. There were some souls with such poor fortunes in this world. “Why?”

“He'll ask for it, someday.”

*** * ***

Everybody owed Madame Mercier _something_. She always felt in the position to ask for a little more more and they never dared to speak up. It was said that it only took her a glance to cast a curse on you. No one had been brave enough to defy her, yet.

For very obvious reason, she couldn't feed Merriell in a way a mother would. That's why she showed up at the Boudreaux's. The woman came to her, three months ago, begging to help her husband to keep his job. And she did. Back in the day she felt like she couldn't ask her for anything at the moment. That she had to wait. Madame Mercier was not greedy (or so she said) and decided to let it pass with the condition that she would return for her payment. The woman was already feeding one baby. Either one or two, the difference wouldn't kill her.

*** * ***

The news began to spread. The Boudreaux were never that good at keeping secrets. That evening Constance Guillory knocked at her door. The Madame had both devotion and spite towards the traiteuse. Her presence brought so much peace that it became eerie and displeasing. Then came the fact that she was the only one that dare to call her by her name, that _had_ to cause some reaction on her.

“I heard you are taking care of a little boy now, Élodie.”

She grumbled as she kept herself busy with the pots but not cooking. Constance was delightful, she never demanded too much attention from her as a host. She sat down close to the crib and observed the baby. Merry was sleeping like the angel he pretended to be and clearly wasn't. Her hand rested over his head and closed her eyes.

“Oh, he _is_ special, isn't he?”

“That's what his _Maman_ said.”

“Clever girl.”

“He's cursed.”

“Oh, Élodie, don't be so harsh. It's just a bad omen. He needs a little help.”

“I ain't that kind of person.”

“You keep denying there's plenty of good in you?”

“Hush, you witch, you know nothing about me.” Madame hissed, hating to be accused of kindness.

“You are still incorrigible.” Constance smiled and shook her head.

“Are you gonna to help 'im or not.”

“He doesn't need _my_ help. He's perfect as he is.”

“There's _darkness_ in his future, Connie, don't you dare to come to my house and lie to me.”

“I'm not lying. There's darkness in his future, but I can also see a luminous being watching after him. He'll be okay, you don't have to worry about a single thing.”

“I don't.”

“Of course not.” answered Constance with a soft smile over her lips. “You know? My eldest, Suzette, she is going to get married. To the Roe boy.”

“Which one?”

“Eloy, of course.”

Madame Mercier snorted.

“Oh, don't be that way, he is a good boy. Took him plenty to ask her.”

“A boy that is not brave, doesn't get very far.”

“Now you are just being cynical.” she waved her hand a bit, dismissing Élodie's biterness. “Do you mind if I hold him?”

The priestess didn't answer and Constance picked the baby from the crib. Merry opened his eyes briefly but did not cry. Constance fixed his clothes and caressed his cheek. “I don't think I'll live to see my grandchildren,” she began and the Madame felt her throat becoming tight and her hands shaking a little. “But I'll live to see my Suzette getting married. God knows I pray for Elise. She will pass that dreamy nature of hers to her kids.”

“That's what you get for letting your girls believe in _conte de fées_.” she replied, even if her voice was weak.

“There's nothing more beautiful in this world than hope, Élodie. I could not take that away from them.” She caressed Merry's chin with a finger. “Don't let him be alone. That's what will kill him. My grandchildren will be there for him.”

“ _Sure_ they will be.”

“I was there for you. And you were there for me.”

Madame Mercier turned to look at the other woman who was captivated by her little Merry. The girl had been right. He was special. Special in a way that didn't imply that he was a completely good spirit. Nor cruel. Intriguing and charming, ignoring any law of kindness or evil. “It was different. _We_ were different.”

“Exactly, and yet you had always been my dearest friend. Don't keep him away from the world, Élodie.”

The Madame didn't grant her with a reply. So Constance continued: “And then? Will you come to my daughter's wedding?”

“I'll probably be busy mendin' broken hearts.”

Constance chuckled.

*** * ***

**JUNE, 1922**

When Constance died, everybody in New Orleans felt helpless.

Many could pretend to be as good as she was, but her grace was so obvious and so present that no one could have ever denied that there was something divine about the woman. It was hard to believe that she only had two daughters when everybody cried like their mother just died. Madame Mercier did the crying before going to the funeral. Constance had been, perhaps, the only friend she ever had. And while the sadness of knowing that she would never get to talk to her again was still inside of her chest, there was this sense of pride of knowing that there would never be another woman in this world that could claim to have the best of creatures as her darling friend. That had been her privilege. Grief was always a choice, she wanted to celebrate her friend. And because of that, she allowed Merriell (who already walked a little bit and tried to get as much attention as he could from literally anybody) touch Suzette's belly and make her smile by asking her if she was going to have a boy or a girl.

Constance told her daughter before dying that she would have a boy.

Not during the agony she had been wrong.

*** * ***

Right after the funeral, she took the kid and filled the adoption papers properly. Or at least, she tried. It was clear that they didn't want her there, and she had plenty of things to do, that's why such important issue was delayed for longer than a year. She didn't say anything when they gave her the legal documents that proved that his name was Merriell Shelton, born in January 1921, related of Élodie Shelton-Mercier. That was about it, not a proper day to celebrate his birthday, or a residence or a weight and height of him as a newborn. Not even her whole surname. She took him away, because that paper was not going to save his life. If so, they would use it against her and try to take him away from her.

When everything was meant to return to normality, the rumors came.

Everybody knew that the kid couldn't possibly be _hers_. She was far too old to bear children, and she never took a man as her husband before (as unnecessary as that step was to become a mother). Then there was the fact that the first time they saw Merriell was during a funeral. How curious was that? How unusual? It had to have a meaning. It couldn't just be the fact that the Madame didn't visit the town so often and that she only did so because her only friend died, no. It had to be something else. Something strictly related to her faith and occupation.

Practically everybody in New Orleans knew about the Loa. Either to respect it, to fear it or to use it as the perfect example of paganism and barbarism. And since they knew about the spirits (often called _the_ _mystères_ or simply _the invisibles_ ) between humankind and Bondye, they sure knew about the infamous Baron Samedi and his wife, Maman Brigitte. Both of them part of the Ghede family, famous for being very fond of rum, obscenities, death and fertility. Wouldn't it be delicious to think that the old mambo asked to the married couple for a son of her own? How many souls did she sacrifice to get that little abomination of a boy?

The _mystères_ would be willing to grant her wish after uncountable offerings, all of them bizarre and plagued with sins. The Baron would cover his skeleton with flesh and dark skin. The Mother would welcome her husband with her milky thighs. Some tasteless and ancient fucking would be all it took to create that boy, with mixed blood; with the Baron's charm and the Mother's green eyes. It made perfect sense. There's nothing more pleasing than making a story that could, as well, become the reality of many.

*** * ***

**MARCH, 1927**

Merriell was not a foolish boy. He didn't buy that crazy story of being the son of two malicious spirits. He turned far more stubborn and kept asking about his real parents over and over again. Mamaw ended up accepting that she knew nothing about his father. That had to mean that she knew something about his mother. So each night, right after dinner, he asked the very same question:

“Where is she?”

Mamaw would ignore him or scold him. Ask him if he didn't have enough with her. He did. He had more than enough, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know why he had been abandoned. Why he was not loved by his parents, those that should love you no matter what. Perhaps his flaws were so despicable that only Mamaw could stomach them. He didn't know, because no one told him. And if he was such a hideous being, he wanted to be aware. He didn't want to go out to the world thinking he was something he was not. He didn't want to be laughed at. He didn't want to be tricked into thinking he was worth more than what he really was.

One evening, Mamaw sat down with him after his question. “Your _Maman_ was very young when she came to me.”

Merriell felt like his heart was about to give up already. To hear about her made her far more human than she had ever been in his dreams, always faceless and distant.

“She had no money and nowhere else to go. She didn't want to take you to the orphanage.”

“Why?” he breathed.

“Maybe she didn't want you to go thru' that. Maybe she knew what it was like.”

The kid continued to look at her with those big eyes of his.

“She loved you. I ain't just sayin' that. She loved you enough to give you to me. So you'd have a chance. A clever young girl, that she was, _pauvre bête_.”

Merriell knew he wanted to cry, but he didn't know if he wanted to cry out of frustration or sympathy. He kept himself still and silent, not trusting his own voice.

“I guess you want to speak to 'er, huh?”

It took him a little to find an answer. Did he? He loved his Mamaw. Well, he loved her in the way Merriell knew how to love, that was through teasing and misbehaving. He could deal with affection wrapped with a severe scolding way better than when it was raw and sincere. Everything that was pure made him feel uneasy; unfitting. Like he didn't truly deserve it, for some reason.

“I woke up thinking about her this mornin'... It was meant to happen this way.” Mamaw slipped her hand inside of the pocket of her dress and gave him a folded piece of paper. Merriell knew that when you became Mamaw's first thought in the morning, something bad was about to happen to you. It was like the beginning of the end.

It was a piece of yesterday's newspaper. He could already picture the whole adventure: The Rivettes buy the newspaper and Mamaw finds it that same morning, right before their maid gets rid of it. She sees the news, and she rips the page. And here it is, about to leave him orphan before he even got to know his mother's name.

_**Tragic accident takes the lives of 6** _

Merriell could read. Perhaps not too quick and not too well, but he could do it. Turns out that his mother, and five more girls around her age, died when there was a _little accident_ while they were working. They couldn't control the fire, and when they did, it was far too late. The company was not held accountable for such accident. _It just happened_. There were barely no details at all. Where? How? When? Merriell knew nothing about journalism, but he didn't think he felt like he knew much more after reading the four lines of text. Perhaps the editor considered that show the six faces of the six girls was more than enough to honor their memory and their very humbles lives that ended because of the negligence of a greedy company.

The boy licked his lips; his mouth was dry. He had six faces and six names right under those. He was about to speak when Mamaw pointed at the left picture of the first row: ALMA CHENIER.

She looked... young. Her cheeks were still full even if her shoulders were narrow and tight. Her lips were pale and barely stood out in the small picture composed with little dots. Her hair looked curly even if her locks had been tied to the back of her head. Her eyes, just like Merriell's, were big and wide. Hard to look at for longer than a few seconds. He didn't notice he was finally crying until the first two tears landed over the paper. He leaned back and sniffed, not wanting to ruin the only picture he would ever have from his mother.

He nodded and Mamaw kissed his forehead. She praised him and said that he was a good boy. And that he should think that his mother loved him each time he felt like no one else did. Those were the sweetest words Mamaw ever told to him. In that moment of weakness, they felt like honey: sweet and kind. In any other situation, Merriell would have rejected them.

*** * ***

**JUNE, 1929**

Mamaw felt guilty.

He could tell that ever since she gave him that piece of newspaper, she had been carrying a burden that did not belong to her. It's been two years, and while sadness still lingered, Merriell accepted that his mother was gone and that Mamaw deserved some credit. She took him in and took care of him so far. That was far more than anyone ever did for him. Then why look at him like that? Why feel like she was in debt with him? Mamaw's heart was bigger than she wanted to accept, and for Merriell it was tremendously complicated to make amends with the idea that he might deserve a little more, as well.

One morning she told him to follow her. They got on a little pirogue and she began rowing. Usually, that was his task, but he had no idea where they were heading. The bayou's mist became thicker and the heat was far more humid. It took them ten minutes to arrive, but they felt eternal since Mamaw refused to answer his questions.

She grabbed him by the arm and got him off the little boat. The grass was tall and Merriell was sure he would be able to find any kind of bug among the blades. She was squinting (the sun harmed her eyes, he knew that, main reason why their house was always in darkness) and walking forward. The white house was old, but decent. The white painting was chipped, but it stood sturdy. The wood underneath didn't look like it was about to collapse any time soon, and while it was not like those manors from old plantations, it was far bigger than their little hut. Mamaw looked at it like it was phantasmagorical. Like that house itself was the root of evil and they were about to step inside. Merriell resisted a little bit, not wanting to be cursed. Mamaw already put a _gris-gris_ on him each time he misbehaved. He didn't need any more bad luck, but she kept pushing and he gasped when the door opened.

But nothing happened.

The air inside of the house was a little colder, less heavy than it was outside. There was dust eveywhere and some dead flies on the floor. The corridor was not very long and the stairs lacked a few steps. Some of the windows were broken and the furniture that survived had been carefully covered with different fabrics and sheets. It was truly not that scary, but Mamaw looked like a bird that had been trapped. She squeezed his arm until it hurt and he complained. Then she noticed what she was doing and let him go.

“This is yours, now, Merry.”

“ _This_?”

“The house.”

“... Why?” he frowned. They never had anything, why would they have a house all suddenly? And most importantly, why would they live in a shack while having a house right there?

“It's _mine_.”

Merriell frowned even more. “No, it's not.” that didn't make any sense.

“Are you callin' me a liar, Merry?”

“Yes!” he huffed.

Mamaw pulled his ear and he whined, grabbing her forearm. “Don't you ever call me a liar again, child.” she sounded angrier than usual while she scolded him. He didn't understand why she had a house and kept it as a secret. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she did look scared of being there. Like the house could haunt her spirit past beyond the grave. Then why give it to him?

He sobbed a bit when she stopped pulling and rubbed his ear. “You want me to keep it to save your soul. You are risking mine!” That was the only thing that made sense. And while Merriell was aware that he was a bad child, he wanted to keep his soul from going to waste. It was the only thing he had and God forbid he wanted to keep it! And while he was not very religious or believed that much in anything, he didn't want to be chained to an eternal punishment because of a poisonous gift.

Mamaw laughed bitterly: “This house has no power over you, Merry. It's not haunted, but filled with terrible memories.”

She wouldn't move from her spot. So terrible they were that she didn't want to take a step forward? How bad terrible memories can be? Bad enough to ruin a whole place? Merriell didn't think he had such bad memories yet, and for that reason, he felt a little bit relieved. He had never been a chipper child, no matter what Mamaw called him, but he felt rather pleased that he was not so... tragically sad.

“But don't you think you are safe.” it was like Mamaw could read his mind sometimes.

“What do you mean?”

“This house has no power over you, but the world does.”

“What can I do?” he mumbled, confused.

“To save yourself?”

He nodded.

“Not much. Keep yourself alive.” Mamaw said, stepping back and out of the house. “And then, once you make it back, let yourself be saved.”

He stayed inside, feeling powerful. He was where she didn't want to be. Probably _couldn't_ be. “By whom?”

“By a gentle spirit with healing hands and a humming heart.” Mamaw replied like it was truth written on stone.

“What's that?” he asked, a little angry. She always spoke in riddles. “Is it real?”

“Very much so. A boy.”

“A boy?” he repeated. “A _boy_?!”

“What's wrong with a boy?”

“I am a boy and I can't save myself!” that was stupid. Tremendously stupid. “He should be... an angel! A god! Something divine, at least!”

“Oh, he'll be divine to you. Now let's go home. This house gives me the heebie jeebies.”

*** * ***

Merriell hated that boy.

He was meant to save his soul and he didn't even bother himself to stop by. _Ever_. He could have needed someone when they called him the child of the Baron and Maman Brigette. Or when he found out that his mother died. Or whenever he felt alone and miserable at night. But instead, that boy decided to neglect his duty and leave him there, alone with Mamaw. It was not like he needed anyone. Or that he didn't love Mamaw enough. It was simply that he felt... He felt like maybe that boy saw him as he really was and didn't consider him worth saving. That was awful. It made him cry everytime. Just to think about a boy that is beyond... beyond beautiful, and clever, and kind... A perfect boy. A divine boy, as Mamaw said, that probably looked down at him and thought: _No, I don't want anything to do with this one_.

*** * ***

The mere idea of thinking about the boy became unbearable for Merriell, so he tried to stop thinking about him, about how his hair would smell or how his eyes would shine with the early sunlight. From that moment, he decided to focus better on the house rather than on the boy. The thing was that... He liked the house. Sometimes he headed there just to be alone and think. It was his, undoubtedly, and while it was a prison for Mamaw, he thought that maybe he could make a home out of it. Someday, perhaps, he would have a family. Someone he could love. A wife, maybe? Or children. Just... someone. Someone that would not fit in their shack.

He had to put all of his hope somewhere and that house looked like it could store the humanity that didn't seem to match him.

When he turned fourteen, he got a job at the sawmill. Of course, that was not the first job he had. Merriell's laboral journey began when he was six, as a paperboy. He liked to see how fast he could get, make a game out of it. He was nothing but a child, he had to entertain himself somehow, right? He heard that school was truly not that interesting, so never regretted not properly going. Mamaw taught him how to read and how to write. What was left for him to learn? At the age of six he knew New Orleans like the back of his hand. At the age of fourteen, he knew how to do his job and not lose his fingers. He considered himself quite clever. He had to be since by only looking, he knew how to shape the logs into lumber and then make it fit his future house. He would repair it and live there. Happily ever after. And the boy can be damned, he didn't need saving. He was doing just _fine_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION: 
> 
> Fillette: Little girl.  
> Maman: Mummy, Mama, Mother.  
> Conte de fées: Fairy tales.  
> Pauvre bête: Poor thing.  
> Gris-Gris: A curse. Mostly used to joke, but Merry is careful.
> 
> CHARACTERS FROM THE LOA MENTIONED:  
> Baron Samedi: Samedi is a loa of the dead. He is frequently depicted as a skeleton (but sometimes as a Black man that merely has his face painted as a skull). He is noted for disruption, obscenity, debauchery, and having a particular fondness for tobacco and rum. Additionally, he is the loa of resurrection, and in the latter capacity he is often called upon for healing by those near or approaching death, as it is only the Baron that can accept an individual into the realm of the dead.  
> Maman Brigitte: She is a death loa and the wife of Baron Samedi in Vodou. She drinks rum infused with hot peppers and is symbolized by a black rooster. Like Samedi and the Ghede, she is foul-mouthed. Brigitte is the only white Voodoo god, having her origins in Ireland, and not in Africa or Haiti like other loa. She is described having brown or red-gold hair and emerald green eyes, and is associated with Brigid, the Celtic goddess of healing and life. She protects gravestones in cemeteries if they are properly marked with a cross.  
> *Source: Good old Wikipedia.


	4. Malice (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't focus. He thought about him all the time. Even at work. He spent the whole week trying to decide his hair color. Maybe it was because they worked with mahogany, but now he pictured him as a redhead. With a beautiful reddish shade that would catch his attention no matter where he stood. A halo of fire would fit that image of an unforgiving angel he had of him. His eyes would be cynical, like Gracie's. But he never thought about them as blue. In his mind, they were hazel like Charlotte's. It wasn't because he looked at them when she gasped or blushed. Not because... Not because he wished to be looked at by that boy in the same way as Charlotte looked at him; plagued with lust and desire. No, he was not after love. He just wanted to save his soul and then forget that boy ever existed.
> 
> OR
> 
> Merriell: tHaT's MaHoGaNy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of those who commented the last chapter. It means a lot to me that you liked how I wrote Snafu's childhood. And that you even enjoyed the original characters! That's wonderful and it made me feel so happy!! At first I was very nervous about writing about him, but I ended up feeling quite comfortable (main reason why it had a second part!). So that's GREAT!
> 
> Now, this chapter might be my favourite so far because I think I managed to show that sense of inadequacy our boy Merry might have? Somehow?? A little, at least? And I also wanted to write his garbage flirting, because we were all so far from being impressed with that "sHoW mE yOuR cAbOoSe" scene. Plus, can you believe he is already pining? Like, boi. You don't even know how he looks like or his name. *smh* pseudo-soulmates, corny idiots!
> 
> Also, next week might get a little busy for me. So I think I'll publish next Friday, 18th. Or I'll try. I have most of chapter 5 written but... Yeah, I am just warning you that I /might/ publish a little late!
> 
> Now... Enjoy (if you can, tbh)!!

**MAY, 1936**

Eugene Roe was not a bad kid. Just a little bit boring. His sense of responsibility was far too much for Merriell. He refused having cigarettes each time his little cousin, Louise, (who was... ten? Nine or ten) was around. The girl coughed and rubbed her eyes when the boys smoked. She always ended up whining because she was a bit of a crybaby. So Roe told him it was as easy as not smoking. And the murderous glance the boy sent him every time Merriell ever considered to light one up made him sigh and roll his eyes. That's the fun you get while babysitting: _none_.

Turns out that the parents of the girl were far too busy with her younger siblings and their crazy work schedules. Roe's parents only had him, and he was... He was not like Merriell. Mamaw always told him that he had the devil on his right shoulder (she became conveniently religious when it came to insulting him). On the left one there was something even worse that she couldn't even describe. That's rich coming from one of the most feared ladies in Louisiana. But the truth was that he would have never offered himself to look after anyone and yet, there he was, with Roe walking the girl back home and entertaining her each time she was alone and waiting for her parents to come back. There was nothing better for him to do that afternoon, only reason why he decided to stick around.

And maybe because Merriell loved to annoy the little girl because she looked fairly cute with her cheeks red with frustration and her eyes just about to start sobbing wrathful tears. The devil speaks, and he follows orders, nothing personal!

Roe left them alone for a second as he finally agreed to buy the girl some _chocolats or pralinés_ , as she said. Not very picky, but for sure demanding when it came to her sweetooth. She looked at him in a way she thought it was not very obvious... Meaning, it was _incredibly_ obvious.

Merriell kept flipping the pages of the Saturday Evening Post.

“What are you doin', Merry?” she finally asked, raising her chin and trying to get to see what was so interesting about that newspaper.

“Readin'.” he hummed.

“I didn't know you could read.”

He was not sure if she wanted to be a little cruel or was simply a very blunt child. Either way, he smiled. “We are all full of surprises, _mon petit chou_.”

Lou furrowed her nose, displeased by the sudden nickname, and was not shy to let him know: “I don't like it.”

A terrible thing to tell Merriell, because he will never take it as: _Don't call me any nickname_. In fact, he will take it as _give me a new and worse one, I dare you_.

“Oh?” he grinned even wider and began to turn the pages a little faster. When he found it he felt the thrill he always got right before mischief. He showed her the newspaper, with the very big illustration of the little girl who went to buy new shoes with a hole on her sock. Her curls were fairly similar to Lou's, and so was that unapologetic and rebellious energy. Of course, this was not meant to be a flattery, but he considered that the similarity between the character and the girl was undeniable. “I guess I'll have to call you... _Little Lulu_ , then?”

Lou turned red and tried to snatch the newspaper away from him. Merriell was five years faster than her. “Ah, ah! Manners, _Little Lulu_!” he scolded her with a finger and a wide smile. She looked like she wanted to bite him and then curse him to Hell. That was simply endearing.

Roe sighed as soon as he saw his cousin trying to hit Merriell on the chest (or the face, wherever she could land a decent blow) with her little fists. “What happened?”

“Nothin'!” Merriell laughed as he tried to keep the beastie away from him while tickling her. “The resemblance is unanny, I had to let her know!”

The boy frowned a little confused and picked the newspaper from the floor and even he had to press his lips to not laugh. Roe, the boy who he never smiled, found that funny. Merriell felt awfully proud of himself. Arrogant, even. Lou fell over the bench once again, looking at her older cousin, beyond betrayed, with tears in her eyes.

“Look what you've done!” Merriell shook his head.

Roe opened his mouth to try to defend himself, the small smile quickly falling from his lips. Lou began to sob, covering her face with her hands. Roe gave him another of his lethal glances as he sat down by her side, rubbing her back and trying to ease her terrible pain.

Merriell laughed as he stood up, looking around, pretty pleased with his joke but trying to find a new target. And just like God was providing him exactly what he needed: he saw the beautiful Charlotte Theriot with Léa and Gracie, who were, in fact, far less beautiful (Merriell never bothered himself to learn their surnames for that same reason). He obviously ditched a boring friend and his annoying cousin for a pretty girl. Merriell was fifteen years old and not all that loyal.

“Ladies.” he grinned as he stood in front of them, walking backwards.

“Oh, Good Heavens no!” sighed Léa.

“I was wonderin' if you needed a nice fella to keep you company.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer, Léa.”

“Why would I? You left my brother penniless two weeks ago!”

“Maybe he shouldn't gamble if he doesn't know how to win.”

“Rich comin' from you!”

He snorted and nodded. Granted, he was not always the luckiest one sitting at the table. But when things got ugly, he knew how to find a way out and get his money back. It's called surviving. And being a little clever, something her brother still had to learn.

“Where are you headin'?” Charlotte asked, earning a groan from Léa. Gracie, as usual, loved to pretend he didn't exist. And that, actually, bothered him quite a bit.

Merriell looked away from Gracie and smiled at Charlotte: “It all depends on where are you goin'.”

“To the movies.” she answered almost immediately.

“Sounds boring.” he hummed, turning and finally walking by their side. He made sure to keep Gracie between Charlotte and himself. The girl moved to join Léa and stay away from Merriell. And as much as he wanted to listen to Charlotte as she asked him how to improve their plans, he kept looking at the other girl. Who cares. She was really not very pretty. Just... Not interested in him. And he was not interested in her, of course.

“We are going to the movies no matter what.” Léa warned being able to tell that their friend was desperate to do whatever he said.

He shrugged. “I'll catch you later, then.” He didn't have enough money for a ticket, and he needed to smoke a couple of cigarette before he could stomach Gracie's silent rejection. He didn't even want her! This made no sense. No sense at all.

* * *

He smoked eight cigarettes in less than two hours and once he was done, his fingers itched. He never got nervous because of a girl. He has been kissing plenty since last summer; he had his fair share of experience. The idea of seeing Charlotte again and kissing her in some alley did not make his stomach curl. Gracie and her brutal indifference did. He had been thinking about her ever since the three girls got inside the movies and he stood there, waiting like a complete idiot. At first, he didn't understand why he kept thinking about her. And then it came to him: _that's how the boy would act around me_.

The fucking boy. Again. When he thought he could ignore his supposed existence, he came back and tried to ruin everything. Merriell sat down and rubbed his temples, refusing to see anything of that boy in Gracie. She was not pretty, probably not very nice and if she was clever, that only meant she would know more ways to screw him over. So who the fuck cares?

And yet, when he raised his eyes, she was there, leaning against the wall of the cinema. Léa and Charlotte were nowhere to be found. Probably still inside the building, with the friend helping the girl to look her best for her improvised date while telling her to _watch it, because you know what they say about Shelton_.

She looked at him and he had to sit down properly. It was like he was proving himself worthy of her attention. That was fucking insane. She got bored of the view and looked away with a small sigh. Before he could stop himself, he was walking her way.

“What's your problem?” he hissed, overwhelmed with his own thoughts.

“Mhm?” Gracie raised one of her thin eyebrows, focusing her eyes on him. _Fuck_.

“What did I do to you?”

“Nothing.” Gracie shrugged. “You are really not that interesting to me.”

Merriell didn't even try to hide how insulting that was. “Why?”

“I know your kind.” she crossed her arms under her chest. A chest that was not especially voluptuous. A chest that would not catch Merriell's attention so easily.

“My kind.” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“What's _my kind_?” Poor, uneducated and malicious were the first words that came to his head. He left out the most harmful ones he has been called and still didn't manage to accept as part of who he was.

“You have fun doing this. It's your little victory over your situation.” Merriell felt like she was dissecting his heart right under his nose. “You are handsome. The way you look, your chin tilted up, and your curls... Your jaw has nothing to envy to older boys' and...” she looked at him from head to toe. “You look strong. Slim, but strong. Maybe because you've been working for while, now.”

“Yeah? That's why you stay away from me? Because I look good?” he snorted, not buying her bullshit.

“Actually? Yes.” she continued. “You don't like _me_. You just want to feel like I am yours for a little while. I am not letting you take control over me. Or what I want. Or where I want to go. Or who I think about.” She couldn't be any clearer or more sincere. “You are not a good person. Give my attention to someone like you is like asking for a disaster. I'm good not suffering, really.”

She ripped him apart, right fucking there. He was glad that no one was around to hear what she just said.

“Sure it has nothin' to do with my address, doll?”

Gracie chuckled and Merriell practically felt her teeth gnawing his bones. In that moment he feared the boy. If he was right and he was just like her, he would destroy him. The one that was supposed to save him would have that same soft and cruel way of giggling, the same clever eyes. He was totally screwed. “You don't even have an address, Shelton.” she woke him up from his nightmare with that simple sentence.

His heart couldn't take more of this abuse. Charlotte came back and he was unusually happy to see her. Later that evening, he pressed her against a wall and devoured her with his kisses. His fingers touched as much as she allowed him to, pulled her clothes when he thought about Gracie or about that boy that he hoped to God that did not exist.

* * *

He couldn't stop thinking about him.

Gracie opened that fucking door and now he was obsessed. The worst thing is that she didn't even know what she did to him. She didn't even know who the boy was. Fuck, not even Merriell knew. And he had been asking Mamaw ever since. She simply told him that he would come when he would need him. He was going crazy because of him! He could just show up and save his damned soul, already!

He couldn't focus. He thought about him all the time. Even at work. He spent the whole week trying to decide his hair color. Maybe it was because they worked with mahogany, but now he pictured him as a redhead. With a beautiful reddish shade that would catch his attention no matter where he stood. A halo of fire would fit that image of an unforgiving angel he had of him. His eyes would be cynical, like Gracie's. But he never thought about them as blue. In his mind, they were hazel like Charlotte's. It wasn't because he looked at them when she gasped or blushed. Not because... Not because he wished to be looked at by that boy in the same way as Charlotte looked at him; plagued with lust and desire. No, he was not after love. He just wanted to save his soul and then forget that boy ever existed.

Or so he said.

Charlotte had a brother. A twin brother who looked down each time he was around. A brother that looked just like her in many ways and was different in the most obvious one. He smiled, sometimes, but his coy nature was so unlike the boy's. But once he saw him, he couldn't stop stealing his features to create the faceless expression of the mysterious savior. Merriell knew it was a test and tried to ignore him as much as he could.

And truly, this was the very first time in his life in which he was trying to be _good_. Not decent or not a complete asshole, no. He was trying to be good. So fucking good and respect the... integrity of that boy. Which one? The one he didn't know or Charlotte's brother? It wouldn't be the first time he used someone's body to help himself to escape the Hell his mind could become. Why was it so special this time? Because he was a boy? Because it was all about the person that was responsible of his soul? Was that so hideous? Would he know? If he kissed and touched Charlotte's brother as he wanted to do, would that mean he was disrespecting the one that would come to him right before collapsing? He could use some fucking help. Some guidance. And yet, there was nothing but silence and curious glances.

Merriell wanted to be good but he was not a saint. He kept himself away from the boy, Charlotte's brother, for a couple of weeks, until he couldn't take it anymore. Merriell was Charlotte's secret and he was okay with that. No girl would ever introduce him to her parents. That was simply stupid. Each time he visited her, it was because she was home alone. Merriell liked her house. It was very nice and had that aura of bright happiness. He always spent plenty of time in the bathroom, touching and checking everything they had there. Everything smelt so good and sometimes he took a few things with him. Not that he was stealing or anything, he simply liked to keep tokens. Sometimes those things were absolutely worthless, such as the small ribbon he got from Charlotte's bra. He never had anything, not really. It was just like Gracie said: it made him feel good to think that they belonged to him for a little while. It was his victory. Made him think that he had been accepted and perhaps even loved for a few minutes.

By the time the door of the bathroom opened, Merriell was holding a hand mirror. He could see a pair of hazel eyes looking at him curiously. And then with fear and perhaps something similar to trepidation. Charlotte's twin (Charles... his name was Charles and that was simply ridiculous) had a very beautiful hair, similar to his sister's: dark and wavy. Nothing like a halo; beautiful but very mundane. He was not Merriell's boy, but he was the closest he would get. Beggars can't be choosers.

Merriell lowered the hand mirror and left it aside as he turned. Charles pressed his lips and looked down once again. His boy would never look down. He would challenge him and remind him that he was there because he _had_ to be. Not because he wanted to. Merriell was sure that boy, his boy, would eat his heart, and each time he dreamed about him, he was far more convinced he would feed it to him with a fucking spoon. How crazy was that?

He felt Charles' rushed breathing over his lips. They were about the same height. He was skinny as he was, but in that moment he looked far weaker; fragile. He was beyond terrified and Merriell felt frustrated. His boy could save him from so much suffering by showing up. What was he waiting for? It was like him not being there pushed Merriell to do the most stupid things he could think of.

He kissed him, angry and ravenous. Charles' hands rested over his shoulders and he pushed them away, marking his ten fingers on both of his wrists. This was morally wrong in so many ways, he knew. He was the brother of the girl that loved him (perhaps, he didn't bother himself checking), he was not the one he had been desperate to conquest and he was, in fact, a boy. Because that was a whole thing by itself. His boy was, actually, _a boy_. Merriell felt frustrated at himself for not finding that detail awfully bothersome.

He was going straight to Hell. Oh, well. With some luck, this sin won't repeat itself.

*** * ***

But it did.

He stopped talking to Charlotte and never looked back at Charles after that day. He broke two hearts at the very same time, but he felt no remorse. He did whatever he had to do to keep his mind under control. To tame his desire and be able to carry on. After that experience, Merriell found himself absolutely unbothered by the fact that sometimes he kissed girls and sometimes he kissed boys. But no matter what, they either had to have a challenging nature or red locks. That was his type. His type that had been built on the image he created of a boy he never got to meet.

Can you imagine that he ever shows up and he's nothing like he expected him to be?

That would be fucking devastating.

*** * ***

**OCTOBER, 1941**

Last year he dodged a bullet. He was only a couple of years younger than the age they demanded for all the boys from twenty-one to thrity-five to register. Now he was twenty, and things are getting worse. He won't be that lucky next time. Each year they are closer to war, and he was not getting any younger. He would be drafted and shipped across the fucking sea. It was just a matter of time. So, he better have a good time before that happens.

Roe was only a year younger than Merriell. Knowing him and his stupid sense of responsibility, he would even end up volunteering. Merriell felt morally obligued to drag him with him. A boy has the right to drink and enjoy himself before being sent to war.

The club was crowded. There was a cloud of smoke over their heads. Merriell still had his arm wrapped around Roe's shoulders, but they both knew that it was a matter of time before he would leave for yet another game of seduction. Roe was the quiet kind, if he ever got angry at him, he didn't let it show. Either way, he never saw him interacting with any girl. Or boy, for that matter. He looked around, downed his drink and then excused himself before he left.

Perhaps that was his plan for tonight, but things were about to get interesting. Merriell looked around; as usual Romero and Bowers were the masters of the dancefloor. He had to to recognize it, those kids could dance. He kept scanning the place and then... There she was! Merriell snorted and looked at Roe from the corner of his eyes. The boy was clever enough to understand that look:

“What?” he said.

“Isn't that your cousin? Lulu?” He pointed at a girl in red, hiding a little bit behind another boy. Hiding? More like giggling and turning her head when he tried to kiss her.

“Impossible.” Roe answered before he got to see her. Then he looked mad and Merriell felt thrilled. He didn't recall ever seeing the boy like that. He was quick to follow him, just to see how the whole situation would end.

“Louise!” he called her name and she froze. She was like a deer, with wide eyes and paralyzed right in front of her cousin. She parted her lips and quickly closed them, now hiding for real behind the drunk boy, who smiled like a complete ass. “Back off.” he pushed him away from his cousin and grabbed her by the arm.

“Hey, hey! We are havin' a nice time, c'mon!” he slurred as Lou tried to explain her cousin what was going on. Roe was not having it and Merriell chuckled.

“Let it go, bud. She's fifteen.” Now he knew her age, because she felt it truly make a big difference to not be fourteen anymore.

“Doesn't matter to me! She acts like a grown up, she gets it like one!” Merriell's smile fell from his lips. Here's the thing, that girl was not his cousin. But he has been around since she was born. And while he refused to have any responsibility over anyone, that was simply sickening. Before he could even think twice, he punched the guy in the mouth and let him bleed on the floor. Not that many noticed, and those who did decided to ignore the whole issue to keep having fun.

“You are fifteen, what the Hell were you thinkin'?!” he never heard Roe talking so fast, before. Lou had her arms crossed as he put his jacket over her shoulders. She struggled to get it off her. Merriell decided to give them some space and observe. Turns out that he did that quite a lot: stare. “Uh?! Pretendin' to be a grown up? _A woman_? See what happens? Are you out of your mind, Lou?!”

“It's none of your business!” she quickly answered, with the same heat in her voice. Boy, it shows they are family. Merriell made himself comfortable against the railing and started to smoke. “I was only tryin' to have fun!”

“Fun? _Fun_?! Jesus Christ, Lou! That's not fun! That's walkin' right into danger!” Merriell looked at the club when Roe gestured at it. Well, he could name plenty of places in New Orleans far more dangerous than that club. But he was not giving Lulu any ideas.

“I shouldn't be scared! It shouldn't be my problem!”

“It is when you are fifteen!”

“Fine, if it's _my_ problem, then leave me alone to solve it myself!” she roared.

Roe leaned back and Merriell could tell he was forcing himself to calm down. That was his cousin, after all, and he assumed that he cared about her. There were things he couldn't call her or say to her. Merriell considered that maybe he could learn a thing or two from Roe. Just maybe...

“We are goin' home.”

She didn't move.

Merriell sighed and decided to get involved. He placed his hand over her back. “Let's go, Lulu. Before it gets any worse, huh?”

Her eyes were clear: _don't you fucking call me that_. Merriell merely smiled since she started to walk, even if it was only to get away from him. And to start round two, one that would leave Roe knocked out.

“Don't you think I don't know what's comin'? Papa will have to go to war. You will go to war.” she poked his chest, roughly. “Even he will go to war, God help him!” Merriell raised his eyebrows, offended that she didn't believe he'd make it back. “You know what will happen to us? Huh? To _me_? Maman won't make enough to support us. I am the oldest. I'll working with her by next year.”

It took Roe a couple of seconds to react: “She will find a way to keep you in sc—”

“No, she won't!” she barely let him talk. “These are going to be the worst years of our lives! We will stay home, worrying that you might get killed. You might fuckin' die, Eugene! Papa might never come back! We are five at home! Maman will work like crazy! I'll drop out of school, and then I'll work. Day after day. No fun! No color! Nothing but fear and worry! And I can't enjoy the last days of peace?! Because I am _fifteen_?!”

“You are too young, Lou!” he was still not changing his mind. As convincing as her speech sounded, Roe was strict with his rules.

“It's not like the war is going to wait until I turn eighteen, either!”

Roe repeated his strategy and took a step back. Something told Merriell that if she had been someone else, Roe would have reacted in a very different way. “You go back home.” And that was the last thing he said before he looked at Merriell ( _walk her back home for me_ ) before he left.

“That,” Merriell exhaled the smoke and dropped the cigarette. “was an asshole move, Little Lulu.”

“You don't even understand, _Merry_.”

“No? You don't think I understand?” he snorted as he began to walk with her.

“What were you doin' when you were my age?” she raised her chin as she looked at him.

The whole Charlotte-Charles fiasco came to his head. Merriell shrugged: “That's the thing, you can do better than that.”

“Everybody always says that. I'm not gonna do better than anyone 'ere.” she whispered. “We are all going to be get screwed by this.”

“You don't think he is not aware?”

“He is. But he keeps acting like... Like...”

“Like he cares? Yeah, God fucking forbids he wants to make sure his cousin doesn't get hurt.” Merriell huffed. She had a good point, a few moments ago, but that now she was simply childish. “If you think a boy can save you from the shit that's comin', you have so much to learn, still.”

“That's not w—“

“C'mon! You were dying to find Mr Dreamy, tonight. _Mr I have so much money you'll never have to work_. Or _Mr I'll fly us to a safe little island away from war_. Well, chère, that guy doesn't exist. And even if he did, you wouldn't find him in that fuckin' club.”

Lou finally shut her mouth.

“We are all going to have to deal with this, and hopefully, we'll manage to get back where we were before any of this bullshit started.”

“I just...” she licked her red lips. Perhaps she painted them for the first time tonight. “I don't want to... face this.”

“Well!” Merriell sighed and patted her head before he did his best to ruin her hairdo. “It's not like we have any choice, do we?” If there's going to be a war, the only thing they can do is go there convinced that they are going to survive and win. “With some luck we'll get something out of it.”

“Like _your_ boy?” Lou she shoved him away.

Merriell looked surprised: “What do you know about _my_ boy?”

“Your Mamaw talks to me, sometimes.” Lou hummed.

“She hates you.”

“She sure does, but she still talks to me.”

“What did she say about him?”

Lou grinned and Merriell absolutely despised her in that moment.

*** * ***

**DECEMBER, 1941**

Roe left little after Pearl Harbor was attacked. He volunteered as they all assumed he would do. Fuck, even Merriell volunteered. They went together. But Roe's stupidity didn't end there. He was going to become a paratrooper. Merriell didn't have any wings, there's no fucking way he would jump out of a plane. That's why the Marines seemed to be his best option. Plus, how good it sounded to say that no Marine got drafted? They were all there because they were that brave. Yeah, _sure_.

So there he was, at the train station. Mamaw hugged him and kissed him (as strange as that felt) before he left the shack. Ever since he turned fifteen, he only stayed there to have lunch and dinner with her. He always slept in his haunted wooden house. He had to make it his home, somehow, right? Mamaw almost cried when she caressed his face. She looked at him and asked him to keep himself alive. That once it would be over, things would finally be okay for him. That he would get something out of all of this shit. _Literally_.

Well, he fucking better. Merriell refused to think about anything. About the idea of dying in the other side of the Pacific. Or never getting to see what his boy looked like. He couldn't pretend; die with a dirty soul made him feel a little... scared. And very frustrated.

Lou was there that morning when he visited Mamaw to say his goodbyes. Those two were up to something, but whatever they were planning, he wouldn't get to see it. Maybe something related to Christmas. Because, yes, he was leaving right before Christmas. That was fucking barbaric.

The girl patted his shoulder and sighed. “Hey... At least they will get to see how crazy you are, huh?” the smile she had over her lips showed that she was getting some experience when it comes to this. First her cousin, then her father and now him.

“They better start runnin' when I show up, yeah.”

Lou nodded and placed her hands over her hips, her eyes focused on her shoes. She shrugged a bit. “Want me to write to you? I can write three letters instead of two.”

“You know I won't write you back.” He wouldn't. He even warned Mamaw. He needed his mind to be with him and not across the sea.

“Even better.”

Merriell chuckled. The train whistled and they were given their very last warning. He wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her back. Lou hugged him with both of her arms, tight, and mumbled: “Take care.”

“Yeah, you too, Little Lulu.”

“Really?” she huffed as she leaned back.

“You still look the same to me.” Merriell grinned as she hit him on the arm.

“Just leave, Shelton.”

He smiled for the last time in that annying-but-not-completely-mean way he had to smile before he got inside the train. Things were about to get rough. Maman told her to be strong and the Madame told her that she either _stopped being stupid or she would suffer quite a bit_. Seems to be the advice literally anyone could get at that point. She took a step back and began to walk away, towards the post office. The letter was given to her that same morning before Merriell showed up. And the instructions were clear: _send it once he is gone_. When she realized that she had to pay for the stamp herself (that terrible old woman), Lou could read that it was addressed to M. F. Sledge. Would that be his name? His father's? His mother's? Doesn't matter. He was probably a Sledge and he lived in Mobile, Alabama.

Sounds fancy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCES:  
> Little Lulu was a comic strip that was initially published in the Saturday Evening Post. Then it became a rather famous cartoon.
> 
> TRANSLATION:  
> Mon petit chou: Chou either means cabbage or a sweet bun (choux), but used as in sweetie, or little darling.


	5. Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After he finished the bowl of soup, Madame Mercier (call me Mamaw) told him about Merriell. It was not the best description that could be given about a person: impassive but at the same time overly passionate, greedy and possessive over his own belongings, mischievous but not too harmful. At some point, Mamaw even said insufferable. But she also said charming and tender. The only conclusion he extracted from her whole speech was that Merriell was changeable and a little bit selfish. Still, it was so complicated to give him a human condition when he was only words spoken inside of a little house. He still didn't think about him as a real person. More like a spirit. Something you'd talk to in the dark, without expecting any answer but obsessing about some sort of manifestation. Any evidence that he was out there, and that his duty had a meaning. Eugene noticed, then, he was giving Merriell a divine nature he didn't have.
> 
> OR
> 
> Eugene, overwhelmed by catholic guilt already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it through the week!! Yay!! I was going to upload tomorrow, but I don't think I'll have the time for it. So here it is, chapter five!  
> My idea from now and on, is to write the following years (1942-1945) in four chapters, so Eugene and Snafu will meet /properly/ in chapter ten (HOPEFULLY). I am sorry for making you wait, but I don't think it would work in any other way. And I am forcing myself to keep it short bc... I am the kind of person that writes pages and pages of absolutely nothing. No one wants to read that!!!  
> (That part of 'dream becoming breath and skin'... Yeah, I was listening to Duran Duran, IDK)
> 
> By the way, you can find at persipneiwrites.tumblr.com. I don't use it much, but sometimes I post some edits and I am willing to write prompts or answer questions. 
> 
> Thanks for those comment and leave kudos!! You are all wonderful!! Now try to enjoy my trash English!!

**MOBILE, JANUARY 1942**

“What do you mean _leave_?” Eugene insisted.

Mary Frank brushed her skirt and tried to find the best way to explain the situation. Her husband was still silent, just as their son was.

“That was... part the deal.” she mumbled.

“Deal? What _deal_? What the Hell is going on?”

“Language.” Mary Frank scolded him and by the way Eugene looked at her, she felt like he didn't think she was in the proper position to demand anything from him. “I did what I had to do.” Her hands moved and she began to pull her fingers, playing with her ring. “I needed help, and she provided it. You were born healthy.” She couldn't say she regretted it. Sure, she would have wanted to pay her debt right in that moment, but it was truly not up to her.

“And now _what_? I am her servant?” he raised his eyebrows. “She wanted a boy to boss around?”

“It's not that, honey.”

“Then what is it?!”

Edward hushed his son by placing a hand over his shoulder. Eugene tensed his jaw and rubbed his forehead, clearly confused and very frustrated. Mary Frank knew her son was reaching his limit: a couple of days ago he had to see how his best friend left. Another boy that would be part of the war, and he would still stay at home. Or even worse, leave to take care of an old woman, it seems.

“She had a child. He was... two when I got there.” Mary Frank still remembered that little smirk and the light weight of the child as he played with her necklace. She was not... gifted, she was not special. But even she could feel his need to be loved and taken care of. “She told me he would get sick. And that you would be able to help him.”

“What kind of sick?” her husband asked. “I could visit them.” Her Edward was always good and tried to understand her. She hid this away from him until this very moment, and still, she couldn't see judgment in his eyes. He was clearly trying to find a way out that would release their son from a responsibility he did not want to have.

“It's not that kind of sick...” she denied. “It's his... soul.”

“Oh, Mother, please!” Eugene huffed and stood up, walking around with his hands on his waist. “Can't you see? This is complete nonsense!” he really wanted to get out of that living room, that seemed to be the very center of pure insanity.

“It is your duty, Eugene. We all have our role, you can't keep denying your g—“

“I don't have a gift!” he practically roared as he finally stopped moving. “I don't know what you keep talking about! I can't heal broken bones with a prayer. They are liars! A fraud! There's no such thing as having a gift! Father is a doctor, for God's sake, you should know better than anyone else!”

Mary Frank pressed her lips and tilted her head up to look at him. For a second it looked like it was her who was standing: “Prayers and broken bones might not match, but it's our soul that is connected to kindness. You are a good child, Eugene. And he needs some guidance. He needs some help. Would you be able to know that there's a sick boy out there, who needs your help, and still be able to turn your back at him?” she raised her eyebrows.

Eugene was taken aback by the question. He blinked and doubted for a couple of seconds before he decided to be mean: “Perhaps. I am not his keeper, am I?”

Wrong answer.

“ _Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ_.” It sounded like she could condemn his soul for a selfish act. When his mother started preaching, it was like she spoke truth set on stone.

Eugene looked visibly uncomfortable and even took a step back: “Don't do that.” he whispered.

“Don't make me do it, then.” Mary Frank replied. “Eugene, I know you.” she stood up and held his hand between hers. He was still unable to look at her. “You are a gentle boy. You are unable to walk away from what's right. And that's why you are suffering so much.” She squeezed his hand and he frowned a little more. “We don't know how long it will take,” and she wanted to add that there was no rush. The world just stopped to start another war. And they weren't waiting for him. But she knew that would only make him suffer even more. “think about it. Think how that boy must feel. How lost and how hopeless.”

Eugene knew that his mother always tried to make him do good. Take the right direction. But sometimes being in that pedestal of grace made him feel a little bit overwhelmed. He felt like he always had to be the better man. Either with his brother because he was the eldest, or with his classmates because they didn't know any better, or now, with a sick boy because he was needed. He wished he could be selfish without any consequence. Without his soul twisting and telling him to rebel next time.

He looked at his father. The man smiled a bit, small and soft, but without any answer for him. Would he want him to step up and tell his mother that she did wrong? That she didn't have the right to put him through that situation? Was he foolish to think that? From what his mother told them, he wouldn't even be here without this sort of... deal. Probably not. No one could know things for sure, but it was quite likely.

If he doesn't go... does that mean he would be in debt with them? Had he been in debt ever since he was born? That made him feel anxious and like he could drop dead at any moment. What if his murmur is something else? A small curse? What if his heart stopped in the same moment he said no? Only the thought of an instant death made him feel a little dizzy.

“Honey, are you okay?” his mother asked, placing a hand on his forehead when his lips turned pale.

“Uh-huh” he nodded weakly before he sat down.

“You are sweating.” he heard her say. “Edward.”

Eugene had to close his eyes and he felt waves of air hitting his forehead and cheeks. His father was probably fanning him with a piece of paper as his mother undid the first buttons of his shirt, trying to get that nauseous heat off his body.

* * *

Edward knew that his son was... That he had _something_. He wouldn't call it a gift, because it made Eugene shift and huff. That's a word none of them liked. But it was undeniable that he was virtuous. With a tremendous sense of empathy and responsibility. And while that could make him suffer, (how many times he caught him sobbing for things he never spoke about?), it turned him in the best son a father could have. He was proud of him. And a part of him was so relieved that his son would never get to see the horrors of war; the cruelty and the lack of humanity. They would break him. He would become a shell, like all those other boys he met after the Great War.

He was caressing Eugene's wrist as the boy rested on his bed. Sometimes he collapsed. It was not very often and for no apparent reason other than him feeling... well. Overwhelmed. Either with the things he felt he had to do or the things he failed to accomplish. They usually tried to tell him to not worry so much. That the world was not on his shoulders, but he kept doing his best and watching after everybody. That was something he admired.

After twenty minutes of laying down, Eugene began to open his eyes.

“I need to stop doing this, huh?” the boy whispered with a thin voice.

“It sure worries your mother.” he patted his hand.

“She worries too much.” Eugene mumbled, taking the moist rag off his forehead.

“That's something you two have in common.”

“Yeah...” he recognized with a bit of a smile.

Then came the comfortable silence. Edward knew his son enough to know that Eugene was thinking about the sick boy once again. Deacon, who quickly followed them as soon as they took Eugene to his room, was resting his head on the boy's stomach. He petted him, absently.

“What should I do?”

“You know what you should do, son. It's a question if you want to do it or not.”

“I don't know.” he was honest. “But then again... If Mama is right...”

“Yes?”

“He is _sick_.” Eugene remembered the times when his father left the house to visit a patient, no matter what was happening out there. His father taught him that dedication; that natural instinct to help others because that was his duty. What he decided to do. “A sick soul must be something complicated to heal.”

“I sure wouldn't know how to start his treatment.”

It made him smile: “How am I supposed to know, then?” That was a big thing. What if... What if his sick soul implies something terrifying? What if the boy's impulses were Hellish? What if he was what stood between him and his malice? Eugene could tell that this test was far too complicated for someone as simple as himself.

“Bit by bit. A very few times you can look at someone and see what's wrong with them. Maybe the boy has a sadness he cannot get rid off. Maybe he only needs a friend.” And his son could use a friend now that Sid Phillips was gone.

After a sigh, Eugene whispered: “I can't believe I'll spend a war cheering someone up.”

“ _Eugene_.”

He shrugged.

“You know that there are many boys your age that won't get to go to war, don't you?” a vague nod was the only answer he got. “You are not any less, you are not failing anyone. You are not letting anyone down. We need some of you here, with us.”

“You keep other's souls from going to waste. Impressive.”

Edward began to stand up: “I'll let you rest some more, son. Perhaps you'll stop talking like the foolish boy you've never been.”

“It might take a little more than that.” he said before his father closed the door. Eugene's eyes landed on Deacon. “We won't be getting a Medal of Honor for this, boy.”

*** * ***

The next morning, by the time he woke up, his brother was already in school and his father was gone. His mother was sitting down at the table, still, very quiet and with a letter in front of her. Eugene cleared his throat as a wordless _good morning_ before he joined her. Rose served him breakfast and he thanked her. Eugene could barely take two bites before he felt like he had to start the conversation: “I'm sorry.”

“Honey, you don't have to apologize.”

“I feel like I have to.” he continued. “I...” How to explain her how he felt? “I feel guilty.” that would be a good way to start. “About everything. About everything I do, and about everything I don't do.” Especially the last part. “I feel like a coward.” and that made his heart speed up and his eyes itch. “And I feel that once the war is won,” God know how much that will take. Or if they are going to win at all. But they had to stay positive, that's what they told them in the radio and newspapers. “I'll be judged for hiding.”

“Eugene, you are not hiding. They won't let you become part of the Marines. It's not your fault.”

“That's even worse. They won't let me go because I am _weak_.” he sobbed and covered his face with his hand. Crying would not make him look any tougher for sure.

“My boy.” she whispered before she stood up. Before Eugene could even look up, he could feel her arms around him, her lips against his temple. “You are not weak. A boy is not strong because he carries a gun with him. Don't let it get to you. You are perfectly fine. And you are needed here. You can help so many people. You can do so much good.” Mary Frank rubbed her son's arm and held him a little tigther. “It breaks my heart to see you like this, honey, when you are worth so much and you are always so willing to help.”

Her comforting words made him cry. He had been holding all those tears since he got rejected the first time. It only got worse when it came a second time, a third, a fourth... And then, Sid left. Just like many others boys that used to go to his class or that he knew from church. Eugene felt like he was the only one. And that he was a coward and not strong enough to do what he was supposed to do. He felt like a child: helpless and that needed protection. He wasn't.

But he was still in his mother's arms and crying. He had to do something. Eugene forced himself to stop, rubbing his eyes clumsily with his fingers. He denied and slowly moved away from her as she kept caressing his hair, hoping it would help him to calm down. No matter what, they told him that no, he would not become part of the Marines. And that no, it was not a matter of how many times he would volunteer because he would keep failing the same test. He couldn't change his heart. That was the only one he got; flawed even if his mother kept telling him that it was pure.

So... perhaps this was it. These years would be terrible for everybody. No one would get to be where they really wanted to be. Because that was another thing: he was sure that there were boys about to fight a war that didn't want to become part of that. Either because they lacked conviction or a position to escape the army. Then, if they were all going through those years of unnecessary punishment... then maybe this was another kind of Purgatory. His sin was clear, even if there wasn't a name for it. Maybe he had to pay through something he didn't want to do. But something he felt like he _had_ to do.

After taking a deep breath, Eugene dared to ask: “You think it would be worth it?”

“Any soul is worth saving, honey.”

Eugene was not sure if he thought the same. Not when the world seemed to be an enemy. But his mother tended to be right. It was that quality most mothers had: knowing better. He slowly nodded and whispered: “Then I guess I'll have to pay him a visit. See what can I do.”

She caressed the back of his head and he actually felt a little bit better. Calmer. At least he managed to stop crying even if he barely allowed himself to start. He was not going to pass out the day before and then start today crying. Absolutely not.

She leaned forward and took the letter from the table. “This one arrived this morning.”

Eugene took it and pulled a letter and a photograph out of the envelope. He frowned a bit as he saw a girl instead of a boy. She couldn't be any older than fourteen or fifteen years old. He showed it to his mother and asked: “His sister?”

She took it and inspected it. She remembered the little boy well enough: she was far paler and had dark eyes. Perhaps she had been adopted by the Madame, as well. “Could be.” she muttered and invited him to read the letter with a gesture of her hand, to see if they could discover a bit more. Last time, the note had no date and no sender. A little complicated to make sure they would meet with just a line of text. Mary Frank couldn't possibly give him directions to a house that was right in the middle of the bayou.

_Dear Marie,_

_I'm tired of waiting. Send the boy already. Louise will be waitng for him at the train station next Friday 16h during the whole afternoon. I send you her photograph so he can recognize her._

_M. Mercier_

“Doesn't sound like she's very reasonable, does she?” Eugene snorted as he read the demanding note, written with a terribly small and messy handwriting.

“She's not the sweetest woman in New Orleans, no.”

“Now that's just great.” Eugene sighed. A sick boy and a grumpy old woman. He is going to have the time of his life.

*** * ***

**ONE WEEK LATER**

_Just atone and deal with this with as fast possible_ , he thought as the train began to move.

His family became smaller as the seconds passed by. Deacon barked from the train station, trying to follow his owner. Eddie did his best to keep their pet in his arms. Eugene felt a pang of sadness and had to look away. Not taking Deacon with him had been a tough decision, but Mama told him that the bayou might not be the best place for a dog. That he wouldn't have enough space to run and play. The last thing he wanted was pull his pet through this nightmare. He was truly not that selfish. _It won't be long before I come back_ , he told himself. Similar words he dedicated Eddie minutes ago at the station when he had been sure that Eugene was probably leaving to become a soldier. _If only...!_ They could manage to convince him, eventually (right before the train left), but Eddie was quite stubborn and perhaps a little bit dramatic when he wanted to be. He said that he expected his first letter to arrive next week.

Thankfully, Eugene carried his typewriter with him, making his suitcase heavier than it was convenient but allowing him to write them back as fast as possible. That had been one of the evidence they used so he would drop the army conspiracy. _Reporters use a typewriter and sometimes they go to war_ , he grumbled. _Not me_ , Eugene replied, _I'm not a reporter_.

He would miss his little brother. He would miss his dog. He would miss his parents. He would miss Tee and Rose. But he was getting used to missing people. Sid not being around anymore was helping him to learn a very complicated lesson.

To distract himself, and knowing that the train would make a few stops between Mobile and New Orleans stretching his trip, Eugene pulled the photograph out of his chest pocket. The girl was around Eddie's age, if not a little older. Her face was still rounded, like she didn't manage to get rid off childhood, yet. She looked like one of the many girls that went to his class a few years ago. The same girls that never really caught Eugene's attention, and the same girls Sid always spoke about with terms such as _beautiful_ , _delicate_ and _enchanting_. Sid who liked girls more than words could tell. Mary Houston was still the queen of them all, to him. And the idiot didn't even dare to ask Mary to write him while he would be away. It was Eugene who brought up the idea, so casually, when he saw her during Christmas.

He always had to do everything, his friend pretended to be all brave and daring and then he was unable to talk to a girl properly. Eugene never had that problem. He didn't feel petrified in front of them, but he had been unable to keep himself interested in the way he should be. Eugene always silenced that little voice that asked him if there was something wrong with his preference. He merely told himself that everything would change when he would find _the one_.

But there was the _doubt_. And with doubt came _guilt_. Eugene suddenly felt mortified to be holding the picture of a girl in public. Something told him it was unlike him. And that he would never trick anyone. The girl was young, and it was easier to think she was a family member than someone he could love. Even if she had been any older, Eugene felt the panic of thinking they would have known, anyway.

The picture was quickly returned to the pocket and he felt it burning his chest until he arrived to New Orleans.

*** * ***

Eugene got off the train with his suitcase in his right hand. The train was not too crowded and he couldn't help but think that there would be more people leaving than arriving. He began to look around. The image of the girl was right behind his eyelids, his brain wanting to bring back the uncomfortable revelation. Eugene walked slowly and moving his eyes from girl to girl. Some of them looked back at him and frowned. Others simply looked away, with complete lack of interest. Eugene tried his best to not take it too personally and not get distracted, not wanting to miss Louise.

And almost like his last chance, he looked at the benches and there he found a girl with a baggy coat and her ankles crossed in front of her. She looked cold, bored and like she was starting to lose hope that anyone would show up. Eugene almost regretted not taking the train earlier. He waited for a confirmation and he got it as soon as she looked up and around, to see if she could spot someone that didn't know yet. Her cheeks and curls confirmed it was her. He took a deep breath and walked towards the girl.

“Louise?” he asked, carefully, tilting his head to the side.

She turned her head to look at him and Eugene noticed that her cheeks were red. If he could see her hands (that were buried inside of the pockets of her large coat), he was sure they would be just as red. She was not blushing, simply cold. Her eyes became a little larger as she stood up. Her lips began to curve, with a little smile.

“Now this makes sense...” she seemed to whisper to herself.

Eugene frowned a bit, not sure if he heard her properly: “Excuse me?”

“Nothin'.” the girl quickly shook her head, her smile widening. “It's nice to meet you.” when he offered her hand, Eugene confirmed that her fingers were absolutely frozen when he shook it.

“It's nice to meet you too.” courtesy was hard to forget. “I'm sorry, I... I should have come ear— ”

“What's your name?” she interrupted him.

“Eugene Sledge.”

Louise grinned and bit her lower lip. “My cousin's name is Eugene.”

“Ah.” he nodded dumbly as she began to led him out of the train station. Eugene followed her, not having any other choice. While his parents used to take them to other states during holidays, they never got to visit Louisiana before.

Somehow, he was glad that Louise seemed to be the chatty type. He only had to nod or smile from time to time as she kept going. “He is a paratrooper, y'know? My cousin.” she said as Eugene tried to make sure to remember his way back to the station, for when he would have to leave.

“Is he?” he replied, a little distracted before he looked at her once again.

“Well, he _will_ be.” she rushed to explain. “Now he's in Georgia. They are trainin' him.”

“How is he doing?” he tried to collaborate with their a little conversation.

Louise shrugged. “Does that really matter? He is goin' to jump out of a plane.” she spoke like that was the most unreasonable thing a young man could do. Eugene wanted to become a Marine, but the idea of jumping out of a plane was rather... impressive. “Actually,” she sighed “I hope not all the soldiers are as stupid as he is or there will be no boys left for me to marry once the war is over.”

Eugene had to smile a little bit. Not only she looked childish, she sounded childish as well. He thought about Eddie and how while his opinions were far from mature could be awfully convincing, sometimes. It happened the same with Louise.

“Some of them will be clever enough to make it back home.”

“They better!”

The silence didn't last much before Eugene felt like he had to bring up the real reason on why he was there: “So... Is he your brother?”

“Who?” she tilted her head.

“The boy.”

“Huh?”

“The _sick_ boy.”

She frowned and Eugene felt a little exasperated.

“Merry?”

“His name is _Merry_?”

“Merriell. Merry.” she shrugged a little bit. “Yes.”

Eugene felt like he would had never been able to guess his name. It's simply not the kind that would come to your head so easily.

“Okay. Is Merriell your brother?” he insisted once again.

“Oh, no.” she shook her head. “I'm just her girl friday.”

“ _Her_?”

“Madame Mercier's.” Eugene kept frowning. “Merry's grandmother.”

“I know about Madame Mercier. She's the one that made a deal with my mother.” Eugene finally nodded.

“You are about to meet her. So...” she patted his back like she was leading him straight towards death.

*** * ***

Louise's mother took Mary Frank to Madame Mercier's hut. Now it was time for the second generation. Eugene frowned a little bit as he made it to the porch of the little house suspended over the water. The first thing he thought was that it was rather incredible that it didn't sink yet.

“Mamaw!” Louise knocked at the door and waited. “He's here!” she announced and turned to him. “She probably knows, already. But she always complains about the fact I don't have manners.” she shrugged and Eugene felt like maybe the woman had a point with that.

The door opened all suddenly. The woman had to be around eighty or so. She squinted and looked at them both with a sour expression on her face. He gulped and eyed Louise, who quickly shut her mouth and smiled, all sweet and probably fake. “Hey. Eugene is finally here.” she placed both of her hands on his shoulders, like she fulfilled her task perfectly.

The Madame (or Mamaw, Eugene would wait until she would tell him how to call her) looked at Louise and made a rude movement with her hand, clearly asking her to leave. “Go back home, _Louloute_.”

Louise extended her hand, her palm up. She waited with a smile. The woman grumbled even more and said something about her being _just like her mother_. She slapped a couple of coins on her hand. What seemed to be disdain, it was actually an act of kindness. The Madame was well aware that as soon as Louise's father would leave, her mother would struggle. One salary (the salary of a woman, to be precise) was not enough to feed a whole family. It would be a matter of time before Lou would have to drop out of school. Giving her a few things to do after class and paying for her help might be able to keep her in there for a few more months.

Louise jumped out of the porch into the pirogue with skill. She did this plenty of times before. “See ya, Eugene!” she hummed and before he could even say goodbye to her, Madame Mercier grabbed Eugene by the arm and pulled him inside the hut.

The first thing he noticed was how dark it was in there. He hit his forehead with a few pans that were hanging from the ceiling. He groaned and rubbed the harmed spot as the old woman kept dragging him forward, with a surprising strength. She forced him to sit down by a small table and pushed the chair in. Eugene was still frowning as she walked away from him. He left the suitcase on the floor and started to remove his coat, eyeing her warily.

She came back with a bowl and a spoon. “Eat.”

Eugene thought about declining the offer, but that felt like it would be unwise. And he was rather hungry, so he took the spoon and tasted the meal. It was some sort of savory bean soup.

“My Merry was eating the same thing when your Maman came to me.” she said as she sat in front of him.

Eugene squirmed a bit on his seat and cleared his throat: “Where's Merriell?” he was unable to call a grown boy he didn't know _Merry_. He simply couldn't.

“He's no longer 'ere.” her voice was solemn and her eyes perhaps a little sad. It was hard to tell when he was barely used to that darkness.

He parted his lips and felt his heart squeezing pure guilt into his veins. It burned him. “What... What do you mean?” Was he dead? Did he die because it took him far too long to get here? He arrived when he was asked to be there.

“He joined the Marines, my Merry.”

“ _What_?”

“How long it takes to win a war, huh? Four years, last time. Four years from now.” the woman kept talking, like she was predicting when this war would be over. Like she didn't care that Eugene came here for someone who was already _gone_.

“What do you mean he joined the Marines? When?!”

“Right before Christmas. Eat your soup, _Ange._ _”_

“You asked me to come even if you knew that he was not here anymore?!” he repeated, trying to wrap his mind around this whole... trap.

“Of course.”

“Why?!” he could feel his frustration right on his throat and temples.

“You'll never be ready for my Merry otherwise. If you were to meet 'im right now, his mere touch would burn your soul.”

“What does that even mean?” Eugene frowned. What kind of person was that Merry? A hideous creature?

“Your soul is pure and kind, there's no denyin' in that.” she held his chin and made him look at her. “But it's still in chains. You are as lost as you can be. A part of you is still sleepin'. You can't save my Merry if you can't stand havin' 'im around, can you?”

None of that made sense. He knew himself. There was nothing left to discover. Or accept. Or release. He didn't let her words tempt him and leaned away from her touch. “How would I know how to save someone's soul if I never did it before?”

“A candle can enlighten a whole room.”

Eugene arched an eyebrow: “So?”

“So you'll do it naturally, 'cause it's what you are destined to do.” she explained, like she was full of patience while this still made no sense. So he is destined to do it, but he needs to get used to him first? Without him _actually_ being there? How did that make any sense?

“What if he never comes back?” Merriell went to war, not a casual trip. It's always a possibility.

“My Merry won't die.” just like that. With extreme confidence.

“You don't know that.” Eugene grumbled.

“I know for sure you are not very happy.”

Yeah, that was very perceptive of her: “What gave me away?” sarcasm gave his words an ugly sound.

“You don't think this is _worthy_ , do you? You, young boys, all you want to do is kill. You are all desperate for the glory and can't see that souls rot out there. My Merry is goin' to come back as a killer. With his hands soaked in blood. And you look at me and think that you bein' here is a disgrace. Why? Because I am an old woman? Because I am black? Is that shameful to you?”

Eugene knew there was some truth in the things she just said: “It's not because of you.” he whispered. “Not because you are a woman or black.”

“Oh, you are a rich boy from Alabama. You've never met a single black person that didn't work for your Mama or her friends.” she snorted.

He couldn't deny that, so he looked down, ashamed and feeling tremendously stupid.

“You are 'ere because you have to be.” the Madame continued. “My Merry might not be the best soul, but he is my boy, and I would do anythin' to save 'im. I won't be enough. He'll come back from war with a broken heart and the tragedy burnin' his brain, _Ange_. You'll save him. I have no doubts. I ain't askin' you to sit down and wait. You'll find your way, 'ere. There's nothing left for you in Mobile.”

Eugene was not convinced. She was asking plenty of him. Now it was not only saving a boy, but sticking around until he would return. What would he do in New Orleans? But at the same time... What would he do in Mobile? The only difference was that he wouldn't have his family around. And while he loved his family, he felt that being around them during these days would only dishonor his parents.

“What am I going to do...?” the question left his lips before he had the chance to close his mouth.

“By now, _eat_.”

*** * ***

After he finished the bowl of soup, Madame Mercier ( _call me Mamaw_ ) told him about Merriell. It was not the best description that could be given about a person: impassive but at the same time overly passionate, greedy and possessive over his own belongings, mischievous but not _too_ harmful. At some point, Mamaw even said _insufferable_. But she also said charming and tender. The only conclusion he extracted from her whole speech was that Merriell was changeable and a little bit selfish. Still, it was so complicated to give him a human condition when he was only words spoken inside of a little house. He still didn't think about him as a real person. More like a spirit. Something you'd talk to in the dark, without expecting any answer but obsessing about some sort of manifestation. Any evidence that he was out there, and that his duty had a meaning. Eugene noticed, then, he was giving Merriell a divine nature he didn't have.

Before he could feel sacrilegious, Mamaw told him to pick his things and follow her. He assumed that she would show him his room. If his eyes didn't deceive him, there were two doors at the back of the hut. But she walked him out of her house. By that time, the sky had been dark for a couple of hours. Every single one of them wasted talking about Merriell.

She didn't let him take the oars because he didn't know where they were going. Eugene could tell that she became silent. And perhaps even a little tense. But Mamaw looked strong even if tremendously uncomfortable. The energy around her became dense, like an armor.

When the pirogue bumped against the isle of grass, Eugene looked away from her. The house looked more like a temple than a proper house, since it was white and surrounded by nothingness. It was far smaller than his own back in Mobile, but bigger than Mamaw's. There, a small family would have lived comfortably, but with not too much space. The first thing he thought was that the house would offer him an awful lot of privacy. The second thing he thought was if that something ever happened to him, no one would be able to reach him in time.

She moved her head towards the house, sharply. “This is where my Merry lives. Now it's your house until he comes back.”

“I thought he lived with you.”

“He is no longer a _bébé_.”

“Of course.” From what his mother told him, Merriell was only a couple of years older than he was. He never thought about leaving his parent's house. Most of the people he knew didn't leave until they got married. And Eugene was as single as he could be.

He felt far more secure as he stood over the grass.

“I'll send Louloute tomorrow morning. Make sure to remember your way around 'ere.” she warned him and Eugene thought it would be complicated, since there was no reference for him to move around. Just... water and little else.

He nodded and then she just left him there, in the middle of nowhere, with no boat he could use to escape if he wanted to. This was really not the greatest trip he ever had and Eugene couldn't help but think that God's tests should not imply that cold and humid air or a bayou. But anyway, it would be bold of him to consider himself a martyr when he had a roof over his head.

The house looked empty. The kitchen didn't have anything that could give away that had ever been used. He checked the cabinets and there were no dishes or pots. Just silverware; a couple of knives, a spoon and a fork. Not expecting guests and even less to become a host. Eugene kept walking and noticed that there was a bathroom downstairs. He was tremendously pleased that at least he would have water in here. _Warm_ water, as well. That's good. He closed the tap and wiped his hand on his coat as he headed towards the living room. Just as empty. An old couch, not a single painting or picture hung on the walls. Of course, he didn't expect to find a radio or a telephone. Next to the couch there were a few old newspapers from November. When he scanned the first pages, a red pencil fell to the floor. Eugene quickly put it back where it was and counted the windows. Four: one in the kitchen, one in the bathroom (very small, just let the steam out of the house) and two in the living room.

Not too bad, really. It sure looked like the house of a young man that came here to sleep. Mamaw already told him that he ate with her, and Eugene could assume that he spent a good part of the day working. What did he do for a living? The stairs gave him a good clue. Some of them had been replaced. Maybe he was a carpenter. His right hand caressed the wall as he went upstairs, feeling a little electricity tickling his fingertips. The white paint of the wall was a little chipped and he could feel the wood underneath. Maybe that was a habit Merriell had. Eugene could feel a heavy breathing over the back of his neck; a sigh after a long day of work. For a second he had to look over his shoulder to check that he was alone in that house.

The corridor was narrow and found another bathroom (this one with a tub), a main bedroom (absolutely empty), a little closet with Merriell's clothes (Eugene didn't dare to touch them), and then another room, far smaller. That's where he found the bed and the nightstand. How curious. Why accept the second best when he wasn't sharing his house with anyone?

Eugene left his suitcase on the floor and took his coat off, looking around. Just as empty as any other room. He noticed that the first drawer of the nightstand was slightly open. He felt curiosity. Beyond that, he was intrigued by Merriell. He seemed to be a mystery only to him. Those he meet here already knew him. Lived with him for many years. Merriell was his purpose, in a way. He was meant to help him, and he was the only one that didn't know him. But, on the other hand, he was living in his house, now. He wouldn't want anyone going through his things while he was away. _In everything, then, do to others as you would have them do to you_.

He closed it properly and continued to undress. Eugene folded his sweater and left it over the suitcase. There wasn't even a chair in that room. With a small sigh, he let the suspenders hang from his trousers as he removed his shoes. At some point he simply dropped his clothes over his coat and his jumper and wore his pajamas.

Right before going to bed, his mother told him he had to pray. He got on his knees and rested his elbows over the mattress. When he touched the bed, he almost expected it to be warm. It wasn't, but the sheets were soft and clean. He laced his fingers together and rested his forehead against them. He prayed for his mother, he prayed for his father and he prayed for his little brother. He never forgot Deacon, either. He was just as important as any other family member. Eugene thought about praying for Merriell, but that sounded stupid. So he crossed himself and laid down. Eugene felt a little intrusive by sleeping on someone else's bed and using the same bedding. He could always take care of that tomorrow. He was far too tired tonight, and his temples were telling him that he either got some sleep or he would end up the night with a terrible headache.

The mattress was soft and comfortable. The blankets became warm quickly. Eugene closed his eyes and slowly but steady, became more and more aware of the weight of the sheets and blankets on top of his body. Then came a pinch on his stomach and he had to change his position, facing down, hoping to find some peace and be able to get some sleep. He was a little nervous. It was perfect normal, he told himself. This was a new life. A new house. A new role. It was understandable. He still placed a hand between his stomach and the mattress, pressing his fingers against it, giving himself a warning and a clear _no_.

Eugene rubbed his cheek against the pillow and he began to catch the scent of pine and spice. It was refreshing and made his body feel warmer. He brushed the tip of his nose against the delicate fabric that covered the fluffy surface. His mouth opened and he almost felt guilty for feeling that same sensation over his lips; he bit them as another small punishment. His eyelids became heavier and he was sure that he was falling asleep, because his mind made far less sense each time. Merriell's name was like an echo inside of his head.

He raised his left leg and folded it, letting it dangle from the bed. His toes touched the ground and that didn't help him in the slightest. The cold air caressed his ankle and almost seemed to be a hand that moved up his shin and continued with his thigh. The sensation became warm under the blankets and far more vivid. He felt the pressure of five fingers over his hip, curling and gripping. The dream was slowly becoming breath and skin. Eugene could feel the warmth of something right behind him. The blanket seemed to turn heavy with a weight that was undoubtedly human. If there was any doubt, the constant pulse of a beating heart pressed right between his shoulder blades cleared them all. Eugene sighed; half-asleep, half-delirious.

And then, it was a bit too much. The boy shivered from head to toe when he felt a different texture over the back of his neck. Soft and perhaps a little moist. Like a kiss. Eugene's heart hammered against his chest, waking him up from that sinful enchantment. He turned, abruptly, sitting down on the bed. He breathed heavily and he saw, clearly, that he was alone. And that had been nothing but his imagination. Nothing but... Eugene swallowed thickly and didn't dare to give it a proper name. He brushed his hair away from his forehead, now sweating and feel overwhelmed by the blankets and the sheets. His whole body was tense and rigid and his stomach hurt as much as his head did. Failing at keeping his heart under control, Eugene stood up with his wobbly knees. He quickly walked out of the room and slammed the door shut, trying to keep whatever that happened trapped in that room as a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION: 
> 
> Louloute: loulou can, technically, be the diminutive of loup. Could as well mean nothing at all. It would be something like 'little she-wolf', but I honestly chose it because Louise's nicknames are Lou and Lulu. So, Louloute.  
> Ange: Angel.


	6. Famine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He closed his eyes and the first thing he thought about was that Merriell's hair must be thick, coarse; strong enough to break a comb. Perhaps a little curly. He couldn't tell the color, but the texture was undeniable. At some point he even felt like he was running his fingers through messy and tangled curls. Wetting the comb to help him to get rid of the mud and the blood. From anything that would remind him of the battlefield. Merriell's head would feel heavy against his stomach once he would be done, tired and seeking for salvation, but far too scared to ask for it. Far too doubtful.
> 
> OR
> 
> 1942, Eugene... /tries/.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *absolutely ignores The Pacific's timeline, that Snafu was not in Guadalcanal or Sid's birthday to make this garbage story work*
> 
> So, heeeeey!! This chapter is quite long but this time I didn't want to split it in two because if not, it will take forever until these two meet. And if I told you that will happen in chapter 10, boy, I am going to make sure they do!!  
> Also, next week might be a little busy for me (yeah, again!). Hopefully everything will be fine because the next chapter I don't expect it to be this long! If I don't post next Thursday-Friday, then after the weekend!  
> I have also been toying with the idea of writing a oneshot (more Sledgefu, ofc)? I have a few ideas. And I also want to write some modern stuff. But by now, this story is my priority. If you ever want to send me a prompt/idea to persipneiwrites.tumblr.com, I'll be happy to write you something!! :))
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your kind words and motivation. You are all great!!
> 
> Enjoy :))

“Eugene.” someone called. “Eugene?” a doubtful hand over his shoulder. “Eugene!” a proper slap over his arm.

He opened his eyes and bounced. Louise's surprised face greeted him as she leaned back. Eugene grumbled and rubbed his eyes. His back hurt after spending the whole night sleeping on the couch. Well, a few hours. As soon as his mind gave up and stopped thinking about his... _odd dream_.

“You know there's a room upstairs?” she tilted her head.

“What are you doing here?” Eugene sighed and closed his eyes once again, keeping one of his hands over his forehead.

“I'm supposed to pick you up and take you back to Mamaw's.” she explained, sitting over her ankles over the floor. She observed him and grinned. “Noisy, huh?”

“What is?”

“The bayou. It's a little noisy. Crickets, owls, frogs... Mostly frogs. They truly get everywhere. But you don't have to worry, Eugene. There are no snakes or gators around here. You should go way deeper into the bayou to find them. There it gets a little dangerous. I was never allowed to go there b—” she just kept going.

“Louise.” Eugene cut her.

“You can call me Lou.”

“ _Lou_.”

“Yes, Eugene?”

“You shouldn't be here.”

“Why not?” he could hear her frown.

“I'm not decent.”

“Well, you are a little bit bitter in the morning, but you are not too bad.”

“Clothes.” he corrected her and gestured at himself. He was still wearing his pajamas. He used his own coat as a blanket. No way he was using Merriell's ever again.

“Oh.” she mumbled. “I mean, I can't see... your _stuff_? And don't worry, you don't have anything I don't know it already exists. I have a little brother, y'know? When Pip was little, there was no way he would wear cl—”

“Wait for me outside.”

She sighed very loudly, so he would understand that he was truly not that great when he just woke up. Eugene would had been way nicer in any other situation. But the blame and the shame that chased him since last night kept him from having gentle words for anyone. When he heard the door closing, he stood up.

It barely took him ten minutes to join her outside. Eugene realized that he didn't have a key. But the door didn't have a lock either. It didn't look like Merriell was awfully worried about his own safety.

As soon as he saw her, he felt a little bit guilty. She was entertaining herself by walking a perfectly straight line, placing one foot right in front of the other each time she took a step forward. She was a child. He had to keep that in mind.

Knowing that he acted wrong, and hoping to keep his mind from going to what happened last night, he placed a hand on her shoulder and walked with her towards the pirogue.

“Feelin' better?”

“A little.”

“I hate wakin' up in the morning, too.” she replied with sympathy. Eugene had to smile and squeeze her shoulder before they got on the little boat. “The plan is to have breakfast with Mamaw. We barely ate anythin' last night. So I am starvin'.” He wished he could take the oars from her, but he truly didn't remember his way around so well, yet.

“Are your parents working?” he asked, to get to know her a little better and atone for his previous actions.

“Papa joined the army.” she explained with a small shrug. “Maman started working at a shipbuilding company before he left. But they don't pay much. She told me that most of the men there go around earnin' big checks and bossing girls around.”

Men... The ones that stayed did so because they had reserved occupations. Eugene asked: “Engineers?”

“I guess.”

“You are still studying, aren't you?” she should be. But Eugene had been lucky enough to finish high school already and without going through a complicated economic situation.

“By now.” she licked her lips. “I'm not _that_ good, anyway.”

Lou's vibrating and youthful aura became a little paler with self-doubt. Eugene reacted practically immediately: “I can help you. I was a good student. What are you struggling with?”

The girl chuckled a little bit and said: “Practically everythin'.”

*** * ***

When they arrived to Mamaw's hut, Lou entered without knocking, earning a bad look from the old woman. “That thick skull of yours never learns new tricks?”

“Once in a while.” the girl smiled as she sat down by the table.

Mamaw smashed the wooden spoon against the edge of the pot as a warning. She either behaved or she would get the same treatment. Then Mamaw walked towards Eugene. He tried to smile a little bit, but her eyes seemed to see everything he was hoping to hide. When he tried to look away, highly uncomfortable, she gripped his chin and squinted. Then she patted his cheek and shook her head. “Told you. You are already in flames and he's not even 'ere.”

Eugene was taken back. The fire she spoke about was not purifying. It was consuming and aimed to get rid of something that was over the surface of his soul. Like it wanted to melt the lies and the shame. He swallowed and cleared his throat, glad that the natural darkness of the hut could cover his warm cheeks.

“Did I miss somethin'?” Lou raised her eyebrows and focused her eyes on Eugene. He didn't answer and played with the sleeves of his sweater. She quickly lost interest as soon as she got some food right under her nose. Lou started to shovel the scrambled eggs into of her mouth.

Eugene cleared his throat and started to eat, far calmer.

For a moment, he thought no one would talk, but Lou didn't have a problem with doing both things at the same time. “Mamaw says you are like my _grand-mère_.” The woman hissed and pinched Lou's side, who squirmed and complained. “Ouch!”

“Mouth open to talk, mouth closed to eat. Not all at once, Louloute.” she scolded her. Lou frowned as she kept rubbing her side, with a small pout over her lips.

When she looked like she was about to say something childish or disrespectful, Eugene said: “What does that mean?”

“Gifted.” the girl answered.

Eugene cringed.

“What?” Lou frowned.

“I don't like that word.” he said before he started to nibble his toast.

“It's the right word.” She said and looked at Mamaw for approval, who nodded.

“Then I am not like her.”

“There's no one like Connie.” Mamaw agreed with him on that one. “But you have a gift either you want or not, Ange.”

Eugene shrugged and hoped they would drop the subject.

Not his lucky day.

“Grand-mère prayed a lot. Maman told me.” there was pride in Lou's voice. “She says that her favourite was the Prayer of Saint Francis. Y'know, _Seigneur, faites de moi un instrument de votre paix. Là où il y a de la haine, que je mette l'amour.._.” she began, easily, like it was something she learned when she was a child.

While Eugene didn't know French, he could recognize the prayer and continue: “ _Where there is offense, let me bring pardon. Where there is discord, let me bring union._ ” he nodded. “Yes, I know that one.”

“Maman and Aunt Suzette say that there wasn't anything she couldn't heal. That she placed her hands on people and prayed. That she cured them.” she smiled. Eugene caught how Maman's eyes turned a little sad and she caressed Lou's hair tenderly, perhaps lost in the memory of her dead friend. “I never got to meet her, but I would have wanted to. She sounded like she was a very gentle woman, wasn't she, Mamaw?”

“The very best.”

Lou raised her chin and grinned, a little smug. Eugene had to smile and look down, playing with his breakfast. “I can't achieve perfection, can I?”

“You don't need to be perfect to help people. If not, no one would help anyone.” There was another uncomfortable and childish truth.

*** * ***

Lou left with the promise of coming back later that day to show Eugene around. Take him to every corner of New Orleans (that she was allowed to go, of course), and get him a boat so he could move around the bayou without depending on anyone to show up.

Mamaw was looking at him and he didn't know what to say. Well, perhaps he did, but he didn't really know how to start. Or how to talk about it without making her think that there was something wrong with him. That... That his attraction was twisted. It wasn't. He just... Someday he would find the right girl to marry. He prayed for that day to happen. God would listen to him. Eventually. It was just a matter of... faith.

“You shouldn't suffocate yourself for feelin' somethin' so normal.” she began.

Eugene looked at her, sheepishly and cleared his throat. “I... I don't know...”

“No, you don't know, yet. But you will.”

He sighed and brushed his hair back. His fingers caressed the spot where he felt the invisible kiss last night. His shoulders shrugged like he had been burned. “I could feel him.” Eugene confessed. “Like he was in the house with me.” Not in the bed. That was something he couldn't say out loud.

“There are pieces of his soul in you.” Eugene pictured the shards of a broken glass piercing his heart. “Now that you know about 'im, you'll be able to feel 'im. To see 'im. Smell 'im and taste 'im.”

“Can he feel me?” he whispered, carefully.

“In a way.” she extended her wrinkled hands towards him. Eugene looked at them and gave her his hands. She brushed his palms like she was cleaning them. “He has been thinkin' about you, my Merry. When I told 'im about you, he got so mad.” a small and melancholic smile. “Then he was _h_ _onteux_. You became a star to 'im, and yet he was so sure you'd be cruel to 'im.”

Eugene frowned a little bit, confused. He never considered himself cruel: “Why?”

“That's how he is. My Merry pretends to be all cocky and confident. And oh, he's not!” she shook her head. “He's so scared of not bein' enough. He never talked about it to me, but I know that what his Maman did hurt 'im.”

“What did she do?”

“She gave 'im to me. _If she didn't want me, no one will_. That's how my foolish boy thinks. She loved 'im so much. But he doesn't believe it.” Eugene didn't dare to ask her why she never tried to convince him or make him feel as loved as he clearly had been both by his mother and Mamaw, herself. Sometimes love was obvious for no one but for the person who felt it.

He squeezed her hands and denied a little bit. “I wouldn't be cruel.” He almost felt the need to add: _but I won't love him_. “I just don't know how I'll be able to be around him.”

“Ah, Ange, that's exactly what I was talkin' about.” she huffed.

“What can I do?”

“Get used to 'im. Slowly.”

“How?”

“You live in his house. Surrounded by his stuff. There's plenty of 'im in there. Let your soul explore what you won't let your mind even think 'bout.”

Eugene furrowed his eyebrows and pressed his lips, clearly concerned. He didn't want to put himself in the same situation as he had been last night. He took a deep breath and forced himself to think about something else: “What about _the gift_?”

“What about it?”

“Everybody is aware. Everybody can see it except me.”

“Of course!”

“Why?”

“You don't know anythin' else. You lived with it your whole life.”

That was quite logical, but still not enough: “I can't tell what is it. Or how to use it.”

“Your eyes are used to see more than others can. Being gifted is not as obvious as some may think.” Eugene always thought about magic as something sacrilegious. As making a pact with an entity that would only keep them away from God. Turns out there had been a woman that obtained all of her energy from prayers. Eugene felt that his view of the world ended with the limits of Mobile. Maybe now he had to broaden his horizons. Make his mind match his new situation. “You can tell when someone is not happy, can't you?” she asked.

Eugene nodded. “Just like anyone else.”

“No. Not like that.” Mamaw insisted. “Something around them changes.”

Eugene thought about that time when he returned home and found his whole family listening to the radio, a couple of years ago. Not only he could see their preoccupation. He could even feel it over his shoulders. “It becomes heavy when it's worry.” and then he thought about Lou, that same morning. “It becomes light when it's doubt.”

“That's their soul, Ange.” Mamaw almost smiled. “And only those who can see it, can heal it.”

*** * ***

**MARCH, 1942**

His routine was absolutely unbearable. Everything was either too plain or too hard. Plain in a way that all of his tasks (do chores for Mamaw, help Lou with her homework, pay the bills of the house and ask his parents about Eddie and Deacon) were simply not enough for him. And hard while knowing that _everybody_ was doing far more than he was. Eugene refused to think that this situation of pure frustration had anything to do with the fact that he didn't make any progress when it came to Merriell.

He burned him. He destroyed him. And sometimes he even reduced him to tears.

Something as stupid as a comb made him cry, last night.

Mamaw told him to get used to him, and while he only dared to sleep on that bed once he bought a new bedding, he did his best to find peace around Merriell's belongings. Eugene knew he couldn't ignore that task any longer. Last night, after he brushed his teeth, he opened the mirror cabinet and there found what could be expected from a bathroom that belonged to a young man: a razor, shaving cream and brush, cologne, a tooth brush, toothpaste, pomade and a comb.

 _The_ comb.

It was black, made of plastic and broken. The other half was missing. Perhaps he had enough with that piece. Eugene thought that it would be safe. It would be okay. He dug his thumb and felt all the teeth of the comb against his fingertip. He did it over and over again and thought about Merriell. Forced himself to do so until he was comfortable with having him inside of his mind. He closed his eyes and the first thing he thought about was that Merriell's hair must be thick, coarse; strong enough to break a comb. Perhaps a little curly. He couldn't tell the color, but the texture was undeniable. At some point he even felt like he was running his fingers through messy and tangled curls. Wetting the comb to help him to get rid of the mud and the blood. From anything that would remind him of the battlefield. Merriell's head would feel heavy against his stomach once he would be done, tired and seeking for salvation, but far too scared to ask for it. Far too doubtful.

Perhaps far too aware that he didn't deserve it.

And then Eugene felt that misery as his own. How Merriell knew about him, and about what Eugene was supposed to do for him, while still feeling unloved. Thinking that he would never come to help him, and that he would let him rot inside of that well of sadness that at night turned helplessness. The weight on his stomach became an unbearable emptiness and Eugene heard a small whimper escape from his mouth, not knowing anymore what made him cry. His own guilt or Merriell's loneliness?

Eugene woke up the following morning with tired eyes and blotchy cheeks.

Lou was not discreet enough to not point it out when he allowed her inside of the house.

“Just... do whatever you have to do, Lou.” Eugene returned to the couch and laid down there, this time not really caring that he was wearing his pajamas.

She usually came over during the weekend to write the letters she sent to her father and cousin with his typewriter. Eugene only carried it around when he visted Mamaw, to write the letters she sent to Merriell. He was grateful she didn't mention he was there, yet. He only sent handwritten letters under his name, to his family and Sid. Mamaw didn't complain, so he didn't try to bring it up.

When Lou sat down on the floor and began typing on the coffee table. Eugene ignored the lightness of Lou's aura, and how it trembled with fear instead of naivety as it did when he arrived to New Orleans. Each time she asked about how to write a certain word, Eugene either sighed or told her that she should know, by now, not really listening to her. He knew he was being distant and perhaps a little bit cruel, but he couldn't help it. Merriell was corrupting him from the very inside. And it terrified him how much without him even being there.

“Do you want me to read them do you?” she offered once she was done, as she always did. That morning, Eugene took it as: _do you want me to remind you how other men are fighting for our country or getting ready to do so while you stay here, terrified about the fact that you might be something you shouldn't be?_

“No. I want you to leave.”

Lou blinked and sounded a little bit worried when she asked: “Why?”

“I don't have time for this, Lou.” Eugene stood up to make his point. She mirrored his action, not knowing what else she was supposed to do.

“But you always let m—”

“Not today. I have stuff to do.”

Lou smiled a little bit, perhaps knowing that he didn't have _that_ much to do, or perhaps hoping that he was joking.

Eugene felt anger, and while she was not responsible, she got the blame either way: “I don't have time to be anyone's nanny. You can take care of yourself and write your own letters. Now, leave.”

Lou was in a similar situation, he knew. She was desperately trying to find company in a world that each time was becoming far more careless of her age. Far darker and about to be tremendously tragic for many families. Eugene was alone in Louisiana. He only knew two people, here, and he was asking one of them to get out. His mind told him to stop it right away, that he would regret it. And perhaps he already did when he saw her shocked expression when he opened the door, as a silent yet firm invitation to leave.

Two weeks after that foolish argument in which the girl didn't even get to say a word to him, Eugene heard from Mamaw that her mother, Elise, got her out of school and took Lou with her to work at the shipbuilding company. Something inside of him twisted and told him that maybe, if he had listened to her, he would had been able to tell that she was explaining her father and her cousin her situation. Or maybe she would have read it to him. But he didn't let her and asked her to get out of a house he didn't even own.

Eugene felt a little bit like an asshole.

**JUNE, 1942**

Eugene had been working at a book store since April. It was boring, uneventful and he knew it was not his right place, but he had to do something with his time. If not, he would end up going crazy. Money was not a problem because his parents sent him plenty every two weeks. But he wanted to feel... He wanted to feel like he was enough. Like he was doing enough, even if he knew wasn't. The previous week, he even tried to enlist again, turning his back to this whole stupid situation, hoping that maybe things would be different in Louisiana. His heart was still the same, so there he was, avoiding Mamaw as much as he could, with Merriell's belongings stored in the closet, and knowing that he didn't have a gift. In fact, he felt _cursed_.

But things were about to change.

He almost fell from the ladder when Mamaw burst inside of the store, walking as fast as her old bones allowed her to. “I told her Maman that our Louloute was not fit for that kind of job.” Mamaw hissed as she entered inside of the store, talking to herself. Eugene was a little surprised to see her there, and even more puzzled when her voice was reduced to tasteless swearing in broken French. “Eugene!”

He quickly rushed to meet her and asked her to lower her voice.

“You listen to me, selfish _gamin_!” Her finger was on his face, ready to accuse him of all the things he had been doing. Or not doing, in fact. “Louloute had an accident at work. She lost two fingers, my poor girl. And you are _here_! Ignorin' those that truly need you?!”

“What?” he gasped. “Is she okay? Did they take her to the hospital?”

“Of course she is not okay!” Mamaw practically roared. The owner of the store even approached them to see what was going on. “They just brought her back. You go to her house right now, Eugene.” she ordered him, well aware that his shift was not over.

He parted his lips before she repeated: “Right. _Now_.”

Eugene sighed and decided that Lou's well-being was, after all, more important than his own job.

*** * ***

He only went to Lou's house a couple of times, before. But the tense situation didn't allow him to get lost. Eugene almost bumped into a girl when he arrived to the little house. He was out of breath but managed to apologize. She took a step back and tilted her head. “Uh... Yes?”

“Came to see Lou.” he panted.

“She's inside.” the girl was around Eugene's age, so she couldn't be her sister since he remembered Lou saying that she was the eldest. Also, she was blonde with big blue eyes. “I have to go back to work. If you can stay with her...?”

“Her mom is not here?”

“No, they wouldn't let her come. I was there with her when it happened, so I took her to the hospital. I really have to go back.” she insisted as she held the door open.

“Okay, thank you.” he nodded before he entered inside of the house. While he visited the LeBlanc's house, he never got inside of Lou's bedroom. It would had been highly inappropriate. He was sure that she shared it with her little sister (Adele) and her little brother (Philippe, also known as _Pip_ ), considering that the house was not big enough to have so many bedrooms. It barely took him a few seconds to find it. He opened the door before he even thought about knocking, but when he saw her on the bed, curled up and with a heavily bandaged right hand, Eugene felt a weight on his stomach. She looked frail as a wounded bird, drowsy with the morphine. Her cheeks were all wet, and her eyes sobbed tears of pain and fear, still shocked after the terrible event.

Eugene approached her and placed a hand on her arm, sitting down. Lou's eyes were framed with red, her eyelids a little swollen after sobbing so many tears. When she looked at him and smiled, just barely, Eugene felt his heart breaking. He acted like an idiot and ignored her for months and she still smiled when she saw him. There she was, being a child and still far more honest and responsible than he felt.

“Hi...” she said with a thin voice.

“Hello.” Eugene tried to smile a little wider.

“I don't think your gift can help me grow two fingers again, huh?” she tried to joke as a sob escaped from her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut and more tears streamed down her cheeks.

Eugene didn't dare to answer, rubbing her arm and squeezing her shoulder, trying to comfort her. “How are you feeling?” her spirit was so frail that he could barely see it anymore. It was paper thin: there but not really. She was beyond worried of how her hand would look like once it would heal. She was only a girl, for God's sake. She didn't belong in a shipbuilding factory.

“Not great.” she sobbed, cleaning her tears with her right hand, rubbing her eyes some more. Eugene stopped her, gently, and offered her a clean handkerchief he carried around, so she wouldn't irritate her eyes any further. “I think this is a Heavenly punishment.”

“Nonsense, Lou. It was an accident.”

“Last weekend I told my Maman that if I kept workin', my hands would get rough. And that they would look manly. Now... Now I only have eight fingers. It _has_ to be a punishment, Eugene. It has to be.” she whimpered. “I didn't mean to be childish. I really hate workin' there.”

“Not a punishment. An accident.”

“Doesn't feel like it...” she covered her face as she wiped her tears with his handkerchief.

Eugene thought about fairy tales and how witches and warlocks usually demanded the tears of an innocent maiden for some love potion. He couldn't think of something sadder than this. It was unfair and he wanted to _heal_ her. He didn't know how to do it but he knew how to cheer her up. What would make her a little happier. Eugene encouraged her to lay on her back, reveal her face. Then he moved his hand from her shoulder to her forehead. His thumb brushed over her hairline, trying to soothe her. Lou closed her eyes; her soul was drained and exhausted. She breathed evenly and Eugene prayed: “ _Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me bring love._ ”

She recognized the prayer right away and when her pale lips curved up, Eugene felt like he was doing something he should have done months ago. Either for atonement, duty or simply compassion, he continued: “ _Where there is offense, let me bring pardon. Where there is discord, let me bring union. Where there is error, let me bring truth_.” Her unharmed hand rested over his forearm, silently begging for him to continue. It was working: “ _Where there is doubt, let me bring faith. Where there is despair, let me bring hope._ ” And when she whispered the French version of the prayer, Eugene could feel it: the warmth under the palm of his hand. Not fever, neither a delirious moment due the pain and the morphine. Something innocent and entirely hopeful. Something that was given to her through her mother and aunt: the memory of her grandmother. The comfort of knowing that no matter what, she'd always have someone lookin after her. “ _Where there is darkness, let me bring your light. Where there is sadness, let me bring joy._ ”

And then, just like someone light up a match, her aura started to shine, pale and pure. A flame that became bigger and brighter the more she listened to him; the more she thought about all those that were still with her. And those who weren't but that gave her strength to keep going. “ _O Master, let me not seek as much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love..._ ”

“ _...with all my heart_.” she finished for him, switching languages.

“With all my heart.” he repeated, practically like a promise to do better, next time. To treat her like he would do with Eddie. Help her. And if he could help her, then he could do the same with many others. Even with Merriell. Eugene held her good hand with both of his and squeezed it. “Feeling any better?”

“My hand still hurts.” she bit her lower lip, her smile a little wider. Her soul reflected her features.

“Told you I was not as good as your grandmother.” Eugene joked.

Lou chuckled and Eugene told himself that he would make sure she didn't get to that point once again; not only physically hurt but emotionally devastated. After all, this actually made him feel... good. _Useful_. Like he did what was right and like he did what he was supposed to do.

That was a first.

**GUADALCANAL, AUGUST 1942**

The landing of Guadalcanal was the most anticlimactic moment he ever lived.

As soon as he was squeezed inside of the landing craft, he thought: _this is it, boy, you are dying today_. The water constantly hitting his helmet and soaking his clothes did not help. Nor the fucking bombs landing not that far from where they were or the whistling planes over their heads that were not doing that much to keep them safe. Merriell had been lucky enough to be one of the guys in the back. From his spot, he could see them all. Some of the Marines were chewing gum. Others prayed and kissed the crosses hanging from their necks. Some even threw up, making the little space smell rancid and bitter. The weight of the mortar over his shoulders kept him grounded. Kept him there, in the moment, looking forward and breathing evenly. They are going to hit the shore and they are going to be shot at. Just for being there. And he will either freeze or run.

The bow ramp dropped and Merriell started to run.

But no one was shooting at them. The confusion became clear when they failed to understand where they were supposed to go since the enemy was not even there. Merriell looked around and he saw other soldiers calmly trying to enjoy their meal or playing cards.

“What took you so long?” joked one of them.

“Welcome to Guadalcanal!” said another.

_What the actual fuck?_

*** * ***

_If this is war_ , Merriell thought, _it's complete bullshit_.

They barely arrived and it felt like they already forgot about them. They wouldn't give them food, they wouldn't even give them fucking orders. It was just make it through the day in hopes to get the see the actual battlefield, as insane as that sounded. He was starting to think they were brought here for nothing at all. And it showed that some of the Marines were starting to get a little pissed. Perhaps they thought that if they gave them a little compensation, they would relax. So they finally got their fucking letters.

It didn't help much that those were from fucking _March_.

He read Lou's first, her calligraphy was rounded and a little bit irregular, but marking her words onto the paper by applying far too much preassure. She told him about New Orleans and how things were not going that great for her. That she was about to drop out of school and go with her mother to work. That was nothing new. The girl predicted that would happen last year. While Merriell didn't think school was awfully necessary (he never went to class and he was not a complete savage, thank you very much), he didn't think it had been the greatest idea. Lou was a rather clumsy girl. She'd be lucky if she made it through the first months without having an accident. He still smiled a little bit sadly, thinking how fast Lou wanted to grow up, and how she got her wish in the most strict way.

He folded the letter once again. The second one was a little bit of a mystery. His name written on the envelope looked fancy. Merriell even considered that he should read it with a whole new accent. The letters were narrow, delicate and cursive. The pressure was so light that the ink even disappeared at some point of the S of Shelton. That was not Mamaw's handwritting. The old woman was blind as a bat, and that reduced her words to little marks over the paper.

Merriell became a little anxious and nervous as he opened the envelope. When he saw it was written with a typewriter, he expected the fucking worst. What if it was a notification of Mamaw's death? Lou would have told him. Both of them had been written and sent during the same month.

But the letter began with a very loving _Mon Petit Merry_. It had to be her. Not many dared to call him Merry, and even less considering him their little one. Just her. But that was pretty damn strange considering that his Mamaw didn't really know how to write that well (he couldn't spot any typo on that letter, but who knows if it's because there aren't any or because he simply can't notice them) and for sure she didn't know how to use a typwriter. And then came the adversion Mamaw had towards learning new things.

The paper was nice and thick. Richer than Lou's letter. Mamaw wouldn't waste too much money on that, either. His heart began to twist and he had to close his eyes, approaching the letter to his nose. He couldn't smell anything. It's been months since the letter lost any sort of trace that could take him back home.

So he reached a very obvious conclusion: Mamaw did not write that letter herself, therefore, someone else wrote it for her.

His heart began to beat a little faster.

What if that letter had been written by _his_ boy?

*** * ***

So Merriell began to overthink because he had nothing else to do.

He only smoked and wandered until they would be asked go somewhere or kill some Japs. Until then, they were alone with their own thoughts, their fear and their hope. Merriell's mind had never been a comfortable or quiet place. It was twisted, disgusting and knew very well where he should dig to torture himself. The boy, _his_ boy, easily became one of the topics that could make him physically ill if he thought enough about him. It only happened with him and the memory of his own mother.

If he was there with Mamaw, why not let him know? Did they think he would be able to take it? That he would get distracted and get killed? Maybe Mamaw was trying to find the best way to tell him that his savior was finally in New Orleans. Or maybe he would even leave before he got to come back, sick and tired of waiting.

Merriell felt his chest becoming tighter and he had to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs before he exhaled. He continued to smoke as he made it back to their trench. There he only found Burgie.

“Where's everybody?” he asked, looking around. “They left us behind?”

“Some of us and H Company decided to steal food from the army.” he informed him, leaving clear with his presence that he did not condone such act.

Merriell gasped, beyond scandalized that he missed the only fun he could get in this bloody island: “What? I love stealin'!”

“Too bad.”

“No fuckin' way.” he quickly got out of the trench and started to run. He was not going to miss the chance to fill his stomach and get some nice shit that didn't belong to him.

And maybe it was fate or something else, but as he passed by one of the treches from H Company, a white flash caught his attention. And he had to stop. It was a letter trapped under a KA-BAR. Someone left it there, half open and perhaps momentarily forgotten so he could get some stuff from the Army. And while Merriell wanted to join them, he also couldn't look away.

He jumped inside the trench and decided to take both the KA-BAR and the letter. _Sid Phillips_. He had no fucking idea of who Sid Phillips was, but he'd be damned if that S from Sid was not the same S from Shelton he saw written on Mamaw's envelope; just as narrow and just as elegant. He rushed to open the letter and saw that this one was handwritten. Merriell swallowed his jealousy and scanned the letter nervously, first trying to see the date. From where it was sent.

 _March, 12, 1942. New Orleans, Louisiana_.

“Holy shit.” he whispered before he heard the H Company boys cheering and coming back from their little adventure. He brought the KA-BAR and the letter back to his trech.

*** * ***

He read the letter he stole over and over again.

His name was Eugene Sledge, and that detail alone made him smile. If his boy had a name, it could be Eugene. He was rather happy that he never called Roe by his name, or he would have ruined that without meaning to. His boy; _His Eugene_.

Turns out that Eugene was writing to _Dear Sid_ , hoping that his letter would get to him before his birthday (not fucking likely since they just got letters written five months ago). Then, he told him about how he had to leave Mobile (he had no idea where Mobile was, so he couldn't give his boy a proper accent or turn him into a walking cliché, so maybe that was not so bad) for a while. That he was struggling in a new city and that he didn't manage to find his place.

That could make sense. That could be his boy. Eugene Sledge could be his boy.

Merriell wanted him to be.

He didn't exactly say what he was doing in New Orleans. Or when he would return. Or where he was staying at. But that was not what worried him the most. It was the very last paragraph he kept rereading.

_Truth is, you're the lucky one, Sid. You'll never have that nagging thought you let your family, your friends, and your country down, because that's what I'm afraid of. So, I'll leave you knowing that, like the poem says, you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din._

_Your humble and obedient servant,_

_Eugene Sledge_

First of all, what or who is Gunga Din?

Second, why couldn't he become a soldier? Was he sick? If he comes back and finds his boy dead, he was going to put the Devil to shame and become one terrible son of a bitch.

And third and perhaps most importantly... What is that thing of _Your humble and obedient servant_? Who says that? Who _actually_ says that? And how much did he mean that? Was... Was Sid Phillips something more than a friend to Eugene Sledge? Because if that was the case, he would have to find out who Sid Phillips was. And perhaps even make sure he doesn't get to go back to Mobile before he does. Or New Orleans. Or wherever those two would want to meet. Merriell tried to stop thinking about it. But it became harder and harder each time. Maybe he was getting paranoid over a stupid thing; a letter that didn't belong to him. Maybe he was already going crazy before he even got to see blood and guts.

At night, he poked Burgie with his boot. “Hey.”

He groaned as a reply, trying to sleep.

Merriell grabbed both envelopes and showed them to him. “Look at me.”

“What do you want?”

“Look at me. I won't let you sleep until you answer me a simple question.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Shelton.” Burgie groaned and rubbed his eyes. “ _What_?” he hissed.

“Would you say these were written by the same person?” he literally put both envelopes right in front of his nose.

“What?”

“Would y—”

“I heard you.”

“Then answer me.”

Burgie squinted and Merriell knew that he couldn't see shit because it was dark and he was still sleepy. He still glared at him, like something terrible would happen to him if he dared to say no.

“Uh... Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, can I go back to sleep, now?”

Merriell didn't answer anymore, looking down at both envelopes. It _had_ be him.

*** * ***

There was only one way to find out without looking like a complete fool. And that was writing Lulu and ask her directly. He warned her that he wouldn't write her back, and there he was, writing a letter a few days after landing. Now he just had to find a way to ask her without looking like a complete asshole and like he didn't really give a damn about what she was doing. He would have asked De L'Eau or Burgie to help him, since both of them looked far more sensible than Merriell would ever be. But, on the other hand, he didn't want to share. Either Lulu or his obsession for his boy (Eugene... _Gene_ ).

He reached the conclusion that either way, he would not manage to achieve the level of politeness necessary to ask such thing, so he decided to be himself. She knew him enough to understand that, sometimes, his lack of manners didn't mean anything more than that: him being a bit of a wild thing as Mamaw usually told him. So he decided to do it and get over it.

_Little Lulu,_

_We don't fucking know what to do or where to go yet. We are starving and we want to kill a few so we get to go back home as soon as we can. Sorry to hear about the news. Be careful, girl, and do what your Maman tells you to do. Watch your fingers, huh?_

_Merriell_

_P.S. Is my boy there? His name is Eugene Sledge, perhaps?_

Merriell read the little note even three times. Short, not too caring but not absolutely selfish. Ask the important question in the postscript would make him look far less anxious than he was.

Yeah, that would work.

As he closed the envelope, they were ordered to get off their asses. It's time to fight and win this war.

“Where are we going?” De L'Eau asked, balancing his rifle over his right shoulder.

“Luckily, they'll take us back so we can play cards and leave those Aussie boys penniless.” he hummed.

“I swear to God, Shelton, you are a damn S.N.A.F.U. about to happen.” Burgie snorted as they started marching.

Merriell grinned, insufferable as usual.

*** * ***

Lou received his letter a couple of weeks after it was written. She didn't manage to write him back until the very end of September because of the excruciating pain on her right hand.

**NEW ORLEANS, DECEMBER 1942**

Of course, Eugene was fired the same day he decided to leave before his shift ended. He was pretty sure that his boss found it far more offensive that Mamaw showed up and probably threatened him than him leaving early. But something inside of him told him that he was not missing much. That he didn't belong there and therefore, he shouldn't do anything to try to stay.

Since that day, Eugene made sure to go with Lou to the doctor, never skipping a visit, seeing how her fingers healed for the following six months. Sometimes she cried on his shoulder after seeing them, telling him that she was now flawed and that boys would not like her like that. Eugene told her each time that she should not worry about their opinion. That she was very brave and very strong to make it through every single appointment and that she should be proud of herself for being so willing to help her family out and do such a tough job. Thank God, though, that her mother found her a new job at a _mercerie_ , in the French Quarter.

And then... since Eugene was, once again, unemployed, he decided to do what he was _destined_ to do. He told Mamaw about what he did to try to help Lou. And he told her that her fingers didn't grow back, because that was simply impossible. But that he could see how her spirit became a little stronger. He told her that he wanted to do that once again. That he wanted to help those whose spirit was frail. And that maybe, that could help him when Merriell would be back. Mamaw smiled at him and caressed his cheek, saying that he was a good boy. Funny enough, her approval made him feel way better than he ever did while ignoring her or his _gift_.

During those months, Eugene learned a lot. And the first conclusion he reached was how easy it was to judge something you didn't know. Mamaw's magic was not as _pagan_ or as _dark_ as he expected it to be. People came to her because they lost hope and they knew no one else would help them out. Of course, not all of them came requesting something that was fair or honest. But the old mambo never agreed to do something despicable. At least, not in front of him. He would never forget a certain afternoon during October when a man came, demanding a charm to make a girl fall in love with him. When Eugene saw the lock of hair that he clearly ripped from the girl's skull, his stomach twisted and he had to look away. Mamaw spat at him and warned him that if he ever came back, she'd twist his fate and make him meet death soon.

Other times, Eugene was helpful. He held their hands, and unlike it happened with Lou, he didn't always pray. You couldn't possibly heal different kind of patients with the same remedy. Some of them weren't catholics. Others were not even religious, and while Eugene was sure that his... skill stayed strong because of his faith, it was not that what helped others. With Lou it worked because that prayer would make her think about her grandmother, not because of some sort religious superiority. So sometimes all it took was to speak to them. Make them talk about those they loved, about their fondest memories, about their hopes and ambitions.

And Eugene felt good about himself. Because they looked at him like they were glad that he was there. Like he was not some... coward that tried to avoid war. It made him smile that sometimes they waved at him when they saw him around the town. It was just... a nice feeling. Like he was finally managing to find his place.

He told his mother through the phone. He had to go to Lou's house to call her, and sometimes the girl tried to spy on him. But he didn't mind. It was like dealing with a slightly annoying little sister. Sometimes he pretended to not notice her, far too pleased with his mother's sweet and kind words, encouraging him to stay like that and telling him how happy he sounded. _Way more than you did here_ , she said once.

Mobile did look now a little bit like a perfect bubble. Like life wasn't real, there, where everybody was the very same and no one suffered from the same things he saw in New Orleans. He also felt useful here. Back in Mobile he never felt like he had any motivation to do anything. He had always wanted to do what he saw others doing and catch up. Go at the same pace as the other boys even if he didn't really know the destination or if the final accomplishment of finding a well paid job and get married would make him happy.

He was happy, now. And that was the only reason why he agreed to go to the Fais Do-Do ( _I thought that mean going to bed?_ Eugene asked, who was trying to learn a little Cajun-French, but not being that great at it. _Also, but everybody calls parties like that, nowadays!_ Lou answered, brightly) that evening. But that didn't mean she was going to convince him to dance with her. No matter how much she pouted.

“C'mon! Please, just one song!” she pulled at his crossed forearms with her left hand. Lou sewed pockets to all of her dresses and skirts, so she could hide her right hand. Eugene was pretty sure that she was only asking him so she could dance with him without having to explain why she kept it there.

Or maybe she was asking him because, in that party, there were about twelve boys and more than forty girls. They couldn't catch a break and while many girls didn't have the habit to ask the boy to dance with them, some decided that if they could work, for sure they could take the first step and make a move. Others decided to dance with other girls, refusing to wait for their turn or merely wanting to have fun with their friends.

Eugene was still a remarkably bad dancer and he didn't really want to even try and shame himself. So he grinned at her, allowing her to shake him a little bit (she turned sixteen a month before Eugene turned nineteen, but she was still childish as always). “I don't dance until Eugene Sledge wants to dance.”

“Does he ever?” she huffed, with a little frown. Eugene almost felt the need to pat her head. But he found it more and more amusing to tease her, lately.

“Not particularly.” he hummed before he sipped his drink (Lou called him _Mr. Alabama_ after he asked for some sweet tea).

“Boy, you are _fun_ at parties, huh?” Lou grumbled a little bit as she leaned against the wall by his side.

Before Eugene could continue to make fun of her, Phyllis joined them with a smirk. “I'd dance with you, Lou.”

“You'd dance with any girl, Phyllis.” Lou replied with a little shrug. “In fact, you _only_ dance with girls.”

“Way better than dancin' with boys.” she landed her eyes on Eugene. “Little times they know how to do so and they use it as the perfect excuse to touch.”

“ _Scandalous_.” Eugene deadpanned.

“ _Tedious_.” Phyllis corrected him.

At first, Phyllis made him tremendously uncomfortable. He met her when he bumped her into her the day he rushed to go to Lou's house after the accident. Back in that moment, he only thought she was beautiful. But the more he got to speak to her, the more he felt puzzled by her dry sense of humor. Lou told him that she didn't mean to be rude, but that she was far too sincere, sometimes. In her she saw something he could recognize within himself. And perhaps so she did, and that's why he always shifted and cleared his throat when she was around. As he did right now.

“The ones that stayed are not the worst kind.” Lou offered, patting Eugene's shoulder.

“Appreciated.”

“Even if they don't want to dance with me.” of course she was not over it. “So, I'll go. And find someone else.”

“Cheers to that.” Eugene raised his cup a little bit. Lou was about to say something sassy but Eugene squeezed her arm and told her: “If someone bothers you, let me know. I'll be right here.”

“Jeez, alright, _Dad_.”

As soon as Lou left to join some other girls around her age, Phyllis wrapped her arm around Eugene's and he already felt a little bit uneasy.

“People say you are somethin' like a saint.”

“Why, you need help?” it didn't come out kind.

“Ain't nothing wrong with me, Sledge.” she replied, defensive.

Eugene licked his lips and looked down, not knowing if he should apologize. He still justifed himself when he added: “Not trying to imply anything.”

“No one ever tries to imply anythin'. I'm done with people not talking clearly.” she didn't look at him either. “Not being able to say things out loud or have to lie 'ere and there. So worried people might _notice_.”

“Then I guess sometimes it's better to stay in silence, then.”

“Is it, really?”

Eugene finally looked at her. Phyllis was perhaps a little ruthless but very honest. She was not challenging him. She was exposing a different way of living a similar situation. And while Eugene still tried to avoid that part of himself, he didn't... He wanted to be able to live with himself without feeling shame or guilt. He always tried to hide anything that could make him doubt. He had been convinced that he would find a proper girl and marry her. The thing was that he found many in New Orleans. And he still didn't manage to feel anything for any of them.

“I don't know.” he whispered.

“I've grown tired of silence.” she began. “It makes me a prisoner.”

“I don't think I am brave enough to speak.” And he felt like there was something inside of him wanting to come out. So many things he had to say. And most of them he had to explain them to himself, first, before he could ever tell them to anyone else.

“You know? Sometimes you are only brave when it's either take a step forward or die.” And not die in the most obvious way, but kill a very important part of yourself. Eugene _understood_. And that was revealing enough. Phyllis visibly forced herself to continue: “Sometimes you are only brave when it's either that or lose what you really want. We can only be brave when we are terrified. You aren't there, yet. And once you are in that situation, you'll think you are one unlucky bastard.” she smirked a bit. “But it's actually the opposite. You take a deep breath and allow yourself to fight for what you want. Once you get it, it's like no one in this world could ever tell you that there's anything wrong with _you_.”

Eugene didn't know what to say. He was the prisoner of his own silence once again. Phyllis didn't really need an answer. She squeezed his arm and looked away. He saw her smiling in a way he was not familiar with, yet. She bit her lower lip and slowly released him. “I'll see you 'roud.” she couldn't help herself and started to walk a little faster.

Phyllis held Judith Blum's hands, tightly, as the brunette girl blushed when she pressed a kiss against her cheek. Eugene observed them with a worried heart, scared that anyone would say something malicious to them. But Phyllis moved her hands to her shoulders and she probably flattered her because Judith blushed even more and looked away, shaking her head. The fondness was so obvious that Eugene couldn't possibly look away. It did look _natural_. It looked like something beautiful as Phyllis led the other girl by the hand to the dancefloor and started to sway with her. In that moment, seeing two girls dancing and having such a good time without the need of having a man around was _normal_. And Eugene started to think how extraordinary things could become quite plain and accepted under different situations. No one said anything when they didn't try to find another dancing partner during the whole night.

*** * ***

He walked Lou back home and when he made it to his borrowed house, he was still thinking about Judith and Phyllis. About how they looked at each other. And mostly the things Phyllis said before the other girl arrived. She spoke about silence and the need to release oneself when no more could or should be hidden. She told him that he didn't reach that point, but maybe... Maybe he could soften the blow. Eugene was scared to think that Merriell would change him forever. That he would become the evidence of that part of himself he kept in the dark. And while he had been trying to get comfortable with his new role and his new ability, he still didn't try to get used to Merriell's existence. There was always something he had to do before going through his things. Right now? He should go to bed. It was late and he could think about it tomorrow. But he kept looking at the drawer he didn't dare to open almost a year ago, when he first arrived to the house.

Eugene took a step forward and then doubted. Looking down and stopped moving before he rubbed the back of his neck. It was intrusive, yes. Maybe there was nothing at all, there. He would never know if he didn't open it. That was the only thing left to discover. Anything else that could make him think about Merriell had been stored inside of the closet during his worst months before Lou's accident. They were still there.

He nibbled his nails and sighed, heavily. _Okay_. He sat down on the bed and thought, briefly, that he should try to sleep with Merriell's bedding next time. Tomorrow, maybe. _One step at a time_. He opened the drawer of the nighstand and the world didn't stop and the house didn't collapse. Eugene slipped his hands inside of it and found a wooden box. He pulled it out and left it over his lap. He caressed the sides with his thumbs, a little doubtful. He shouldn't, but at the same time, he had to. Or maybe it was an excuse to pry. Maybe not. Each time it was harder and harder to understand his own thoughts regarding Merriell.

After noticing he didn't need any key to open it, Eugene decided that was a signal to let him know that he had to take a look. And then, probably, forget about it. If he could. So he did so and at first, he thought that Merriell left there things he either found around the house or that had no value at all. There were buttons, little ribbons (Eugene never got to see female underwear, that was a connection he simply could not make), a couple of earrings that looked cheap and none of them matched, a few locks of hair (all of them with different shades of red and auburn) and plenty of other little things that anyone could live _without_.

Why would he want any of that? Everything was pretty worthless. Eugene took one of the buttons and closed his eyes, trying to understand. He didn't quite control how and when he got to feel Merriell's presence, but this time it came to him naturally. A nose brushing against his, the brief touch of lips over his forehead and cheeks. All very tender, but while knowing that it wouldn't last much. With no pretense of wanting more than that: a little affection. And then fingers tugging on the cuff of his right sleeve until they got the button. A little memory.

 _Lovers_ was the word that came to his head, loud and clear but somehow sad. With the weight of a future rejection.

Eugene swallowed thickly and rubbed his face with his left hand, feeling it all warm after the felt but not lived kisses. He tried to forget about them and put the button back where it belonged before he exhaled, deeply. Well, Merriell must have had quite a few lovers. Both men and female. That made him feel a little confused, never expecting that to be a preference. But maybe he was not in the right position to judge. The second conclusion was that he sure liked redheads. That made him _smile_.

But he cleared his throat and forced himself to stop being such a fool. It was fairly obvious that the box had a false bottom, so Eugene removed it carefully. There he found a small notebook and an even smaller portrait. He took the small portrait first. The frame looked a little old and the glass that protected the picture didn't look shiny or reflective anymore, perhaps after being touched and kissed so many nights. Eugene noticed, as well, that the photograph was actually a piece of newspaper. The woman was young. But the photograph wasn't, perhaps taken the previous decade or even the one before. So, with that age difference, she could only be... _His mother_. Eugene could only feel compassion for a young Merriell that each night, right before going to bed, kissed his mother's portrait and wished she would have stayed with him. A Merriell that while loving that little portrait far more than any other of his belongings, was unable to take it with him to war, in fear of losing it. He left it aside, like it was, indeed, the most precious thing in that house.

Merriell also seemed to have the habit of writing on his notebook and then rip the pages, like that could help him to get rid of unwanted feelings. There were less than ten pages in that notebook, and only one of them had something written: _They say you can't miss what you never had. Such bullshit_. Maybe he ran out of time before ripping this one as well. Maybe he forgot about it.

Finally, Eugene noticed that right under the notebook there was another photograph. This one without a frame. And not something cut out of a newspaper. He caressed the back of it and there he could read: _Roe, Lulu and I, 1940_. His heart started to turn nervous. He was not very sure who Roe or Lulu could be. But maybe _I_ was Merriell. Each time Mamaw tried to convince him to show him a photograph of Merriell, Eugene ended up giving her the excuse that he had to leave. That he had other things to do. Now there's no excuse. He only had to turn the photograph.

So he did. The girl in the middle was, undoubtedly, Lou. A couple of years younger, and smiling as wide as she did before the accident: childish and completely unbothered. A boy had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. And considering they had the same thin eyebrows and dark hair and eyes, it was easy to tell that it was her cousin, Eugene. The other Eugene. _Roe_. So... He looked to the boy on her left. His eyelids were heavy, making it impossible to tell if his eyes were dark it was only the shadow of his eyelashes. The grin over his lips barely kept the cigarette from falling from his lips but managed to make his jaw look far more squared than Eugene would have expected from a boy of his age. He swallowed and noticed that he was rather scrawny, and perhaps not very tall either. Tanned. And his hair? He had been right. It was curly and looked thick; black. It was pure arrogance, but his hand over Lou's head showed something far more tender.

Eugene worried about his heart for a moment. It was hammering loudly against his chest and he even felt out of breath for a second. His cheeks felt warm, and so did the tip of his ears. His fingers were shaking lightly and his palms began to sweat. He heard himself sigh before he pressed his lips together, keeping his mouth closed before he could regret speaking any of the things he was thinking about: _beautiful, wild, mysterious, bewitching_. He blinked a couple of times and swallowed thickly. Eugene knew he wouldn't be able to go to bed until he could look at the photograph and keep his heart under control.

He spent the whole night awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE: 
> 
> The prayer of Prayer of Saint Francis is the one Eugene Roe recites in episode 6 of Band of Brothers. I thought it would be cute if it was something they were taught by their mothers to honor their grandmother. The end, though, is a little different, but I decided to use the version of the TV show to make the reference a little more noticeable? IDK!
> 
> TRANSLATION:
> 
> Grand-mère : Grandmother.  
> Honteux: Embarrassed or ashamed.  
> Gamin: Brat. I am not 100% sure of this one. Correct me if I am wrong!  
> Mercerie : A mercery? A haberdasher's shop? This one I don't know how it's called in /English/. Where they sell buttons and fabrics and stuff like that.  
> Mambo: priestess in the Vodou religion.


	7. Pestilence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always pretended to not be interested on anything. Like he could survive without showing any kindness or getting any sort of affection. Lou didn't consider herself the cleverest girl in New Orleans but she could tell that Merry had always been hungry for love. He adored to be praised and caressed. He just needed that to keep going. And he barely got it from anyone, because he always aimed to be offensive and distant. But she saw how he melted and grinned when Mamaw patted his head when they were children. And how he liked to have girls whispering on his ear while he smoked when he grew up. And she could also tell that what he was missing, Eugene had it. And she didn't think it was strange.  
> Well. Perhaps a little bit. Because she was not used to think about boys in that way: together. But it made sense. If Merry was so desperate for affection and Eugene's touch, alone, could soothe anyone, then it made sense that they had to be together. In any way they would want to be.
> 
> OR
> 
> 1943, heteronormativity is people assuming Lou is someone's girlfriend when she is slowly becoming her own woman while Eugene struggles and Merriell survives a bloody war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The first scene with Eugene and Lou (New Orleans, March 1943) might be triggering for some of you. It involves a car accident and the mention of a kid's death. So, I thought I should warn. Better be safe than sorry!!
> 
> Also, I've been posting a little bit more on my Tumblr (persipneiwrites.tumblr.com). I accept prompts if you ever want to send some even if I tend to be a little bit slow. 
> 
> This chapter is not super interesting. None of them are, but you know! Two more years of war to go and they will finally meet! I am SO going to let you down once that happens :) It will be pure trash!! So sorry.

**MELBOURNE, FEBRUARY 1943**

War didn't make any fucking sense, to begin with. They survived like they were fucking rats and when they arrived to Melbourne, people greeted them like they were heroes. People who looked clean and untouched waved little flags and blessed _them_. Them, who looked... pretty fucking disgusting if you asked him. Some of the other Marines looked down, unable to stomach the feeling of being rewarded for such carnage. Others grinned like arrogant assholes: _yeah, we are saving the world_. Merriell only thought about finding some redhead and gamble until he would leave them fucking dry.

He did regret a little bit the hangover, but it had been worth it. He had been through fucking worse even if he had been lucky enough to not get sick, yet. Scrawny Snafu, he was a parasite himself, nothing can ever make him sick. _He already is_. Each time he heard that comment, he grinned and let his white teeth show as they kept shivering and pissing their blankets. These little boys would have never survived living in the swamp with Mamaw. That makes you a true Marine, not boot camp and their fancy weapons.

Other than redheads, booze and gambling, Merriell killed the time thinking about the letters he was _not_ getting. They pretty much thought he had a dame back home that was about to leave him. Why would he get so angry, otherwise? They never asked him, and for sure, when Snafu got in that mood, there was no way to speak to him. You could only ignore him until he would calm down.

“Your girl's name is Louise?” Burgie asked as he approached him, walking between the improvised beds.

Merriell was counting the money he got last night with his KA-BAR awfully close just to leave clear he was not sharing. “Huh?” he asked, distracted.

“You know what? Never mind.” he decided to let it go before he would give Snafu a reason to use that knife. “You got mail.” he threw the envelope over Snafu's lap as he headed towards his own bed, probably to enjoy the little moment they had to think about home and hope they will make it back.

The only thing that could distract Merriell from his obsession with money (he likes having plenty of it, because he barely ever had _anything_ ) was hearing from those who stayed in New Orleans. How pathetic was that? He still ignored how his fingers trembled lightly as he opened the letter. He would have never felt nervous in front of Lulu. God bless her, she was the least intimidating person he could think of, but there he was, terrified of the things she could tell him.

This one was from September. Yeah, those mail boys are really not earning their salary.

_Dear Merry,_

_How did you know?? Mamaw told me to not tell you anything, that you could get distracted and overthink about him. That you had to keep your head with you and make it back home. Am I messing it up? Just survive, okay? I miss you. I even miss being called Lulu._

_Fuck_. She dropped the bomb just like that. The girl knew him well enough to understand that what he wrote in the postscript was what mattered the most to him. He had to lower the letter for a moment, rubbing his mouth and blinked a couple of times, feeling a little dizzy. He heard Burgie asking him if he was okay. Did he say something out loud? Merriell nodded, quick and cleared his throat. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_. His boy _was_ Eugene Sledge. _Is_. A whole fucking life thinking about him and now he had to discover his name? Right across the ocean? It's not like knowing his name changed anything. Or made him feel like he knew _him_ , but... It made him real. He was there, in New Orleans. He was there, and probably Merriell was the main reason why. But why ask him to go there so soon? He felt like Mamaw owed him an explanation, but he was not supposed to say anything about it because if the old woman discovered that Lulu told him about Eugene being there, she wouldn't let her send him more letters. Because that's how Mamaw was: as strict as it gets.

He forced himself to keep reading, tame those nerves that would make him lose his damn head, someday.

_Too late for my fingers! I lost two back in June. I hate how my right hand looks, now._

_Oh, Lulu, you clumsy, clumsy girl!_ Merriell shook his head and sighed, sadly. He knew her. She was always seeking attention and approval. Of course she would obsess about it. Her parents never had that much time for her, with her younger siblings and their jobs. That's why Mamaw became so protective (in a very ruthless way) of her. And maybe because of that Merriell ended up seeing her as someone from his own family.

_Eugene says that I shouldn't worry. That if a boy ever rejects me for that reason, that it's the perfect chance to see his character. You see, he is good. At first he got mad at me for no reason. Maybe because he was frustrated and didn't find his place. He was also very worried because he couldn't become a soldier. I don't get it. Even some girls are joing the army. I am so not going to the middle of the ocean to fire guns. Not that they would want me anymore! It really doesn't make any sense. I thought I would understand war once I would get used to this situation. But I truly don't. Do you? Are you still hungry? I'd send you some food, but sometimes I have to visit your Mamaw because there's not enough at home._

Lulu wrote in the same way she spoke: saying too many things at once. Eugene did sound like a reasonable boy, even if also a little cranky. And while Merriell had never been reasonable at all, he could tell that he told her the right thing. He was seeing people being ripped apart, in this war. Either explosions, fire or guns. He will be pretty damn lucky if he makes it back home with all of his limbs. Two fingers is nothing and he truly hoped she would realize that. And if any guy makes her cry and he gets to go back to New Orleans, he will gladly beat him up.

He was still hungry and Merriell knew that he was losing weight. He had to tie his trousers tightly around his narrow waist to keep them there. He had always been rather slim. But this? This was ridiculous. They would end becoming walking skeletons. He was going to make sure to eat as much as possible before going back to the battlefield so he doesn't end up fainting because he is fucking _malnourished_. Merriell chewed his lower lip and couldn't help but think that _no_. War didn't make any sense to him. It was like a game with terrible consequences. You move around and hope to not get killed. But then you pull the trigger or fire a mortar and you are killing them, too, because those are the orders and because it's either you or them. He was sure the Japs also had families: parents, children, wives. _Whatever_. He has Mamaw, Lulu and now Eugene, too. There's nothing in this world that will keep him from going back home.

_I miss you so so so much, Merry. And I am hoping for this war to be over as soon as possible. Praying, too! You are going to like Eugene so much. He is like a saint. Truly!! He has this skill to touch you and talk to you and you are no longer nervous or sad or frustrated. But sometimes he gets a little sassy. He's fun to be around. I like him. So does Mamaw!_

She's sweet. He missed them, too. Merriell missed those he had, and those he never got to meet, as well. He missed Mamaw and Lulu. But he also missed Eugene and his own mother. He was always missing someone, and now he was missing them all. And now, he was desperate to come back when Eugene seemed to be the most soothing person you could ever meet. With healing hands, as Mamaw told him once again. He wanted to rest his head on his shoulder and let him caress his back, hold him and tell him that he was stronger than the war. That he was stronger than anything that would stand between them. He needed him more than anything.

_Anyway, we think about you a lot, okay? Don't forget that. We are waiting for you._

_xoxo Lou ♡_

Merriell wanted to kiss that letter. Maybe it came in the right time. Maybe he needed tenderness more than ever after seeing the most heartless part of humanity. Maybe he wanted to go back home as soon as possible and embrace them. All at once, no longer be able to tell them apart. Just feel that they loved him and that they missed him.

But he didn't. He caressed the surface with the thumb as he lowered his eyes a little bit, just to read the last questions she asked him.

_P.S. Want me to send you a photograph, next time? I could convince him to have our picture taken. The both of us so people won't ask strange questions. And then send it to you. What do you think?_

Well, _that_ 's something.

His girl is clever. He's seen plenty of Marines carrying pictures of their families with them. Most of the times their wives or girlfriends. And it was not so much as to keep the flame alive. To turn you on when you feel sad and lonely in some forsaken island. Those pictures become holy cards. Something you pray to and you hope, for the love of God, that will keep you alive and well. People who were unbearably mundane become angels and saints.

Because that's another whole fucking thing. Merriell was convinced he would miss sex. That he would try to find it anywhere he could. Turns out that when you are starved and fucking terrified, your libido jumps out of the window and you just want to feel safe. Sure, his body reacted sometimes because he was still human, even if he didn't feel that way most of the times. Your body carries you around and you just hope to keep your mind with you. So it was not lust what made him want to have Eugene's picture. He wanted to see him. He wanted to see how he looked like. He wanted to hold that picture against his chest and hope that he was praying for him. And that he gave a shit about him being there.

But how weird would it be for a Marine to hold the photograph of another guy so dearly? Well, she was very conscious that she had to become a bridge between the both of them. If she sends him a photograph of the both of them, it could have another meaning. Another explanation: family members, for example. No one would ask.

Well, perhaps they would but never noticing the reality that lingered.

That was nothing, because Eugene didn't know him. And for sure he was not... He couldn't possibly fucking love him because he never saw him or spoke to him. That was _insane_. But help him if he doesn't feel like he will starve every single day until he sees that fucking face.

Merriell asked Burgie to give him some paper and a pen.

He wanted it.

**NEW ORLEANS, MARCH 1943**

“Okay, stop!” Eugene warned her as he saw that Lou keep ignoring him. “Stop, stop!” and so she did, abruptly, and he was thankful there was no one behind them. “Jesus Christ, Lou.” he huffed, giving her a scolding look.

“What? I stopped!” she replied, looking at him.

“Eyes on the road!”

The girl sighed and looked forward once again. “You are about to have a heart attack. Calm down!”

“I'm starting to think this was a terrible idea.” Teaching Lou how to drive had been far more nerve-wracking than he first thought it would be when she asked him. She claimed that _someday_ she would have _places to be_ , and that she wanted to be _independent_. And of course, Eugene had been a little bit endeared by her determination and seeing that her, as well, was trying to take the reins of a life that while seemed to be paused during the war, would have to continue someday. And that she would not give away all the things she accomplished as soon as the boys would make it back home.

“Oh, c'mon, Eugene. We are havin' fun.” she said as she resumed driving, this time a little slower and keeping in mind all the advices Eugene gave her. This was the first time he was allowing her to go to the city. Ever since they started, he only let her drive on the outskirts, where there were practically alone. And because Lou's uncle (the owner of the car), didn't want his niece to absolutely wreck it. It's been three months and now she was finally making it into the busy streets of New Orleans.

“You are having fun. You are far more reckless than Sid himself.” he sighed, remembering how a few of years ago Sid's father taught them both and how he'd rather have Eugene driving better than his own son.

“Sid? Your friend Sid? From Mobile?”

“The one and only.” At first he got tremendously worried about Sid when he didn't answer his letter. He called his parents and they said that he was okay. That he wrote them back but that he did recall getting Eugene's letter before it simply disappeared. Eugene wrote a few more ever since.

“How is he like?”

“An old greaser.” he snorted.

“Do you miss him? I never really had a best friend.” she hummed, a little distracted.

“Of course.” He missed Sid. It's been longer than a year since he saw him for the last time. But things were changing so much that his life back in Mobile looked like something strange. Like a dream and not quite a reality. “No? I thought _Merry_ was your best friend. Only reason why he would call you _Lulu_ , huh?” Eugene tilted his head.

Lou frowned and looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “How do you know _that_?”

“The _Lulu_ thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I found a photograph.” Eugene decided to speak about it. To speak about Merriell. Last year he kept it as a secret. Clearly, it didn't help. He had to be wiser than his frustration. Handle those feelings that he was trying to understand. “Of you with your cousin and Merriell.”

“Oh...” Lou shifted a bit on her seat and before Eugene could warn about not getting distracted, she asked, _oh, so casually_. “And what do you think?”

“About what? The nickname?”

“About _Merry_.”

Eugene shrugged a little bit. He looked at the picture every single night. At first his heart kept overreacting each time his eyes landed over the boy with a lazy and infuriating glance. Lately, it's been getting a little better as he got familiar with his face. Eugene was far more convinced each time that he would have dropped dead if he had met Merriell the first day he arrived to Lousiana. Of course, Mamaw had been right. He would have burned him alive.

“He's alright. A normal boy.” he lied.

Lou snickered.

“ _What_?”

“Nothin'! I would have never described Merry as someone _normal_. He's crazy as it gets.”

“Is he, now?”

“Oh, absolutely! He stares a lot. Smokes a lot. Curses a lot. He just doesn't know how to be classy.” Eugene made a little amused face, like she was indeed _a very classy lady_. Lou chuckled some more and hit his arm, gently. “I think you'll like him, though. Do you know when you see someone for the first time and you think about someone else? Like... I don't know. I really don't know how to explain this. But when I talk about Merry, I think about you. And when I talk about you, I think about Merry. Curious, isn't it? Like. You showed up and it made sense. Merry made sense, in a way. And trust me! He is the most irreverent boy ever!”

He understood but at the same time, he didn't. He was dying to see him, but on the other hand, he was terrified. Eugene doubted if he would ever be able to stop shifting between mixed feelings. But he decided to keep his thoughts for himself and smirked: “Irreverent? Fancy word, Lou.”

“Oh, _hush_.” she rolled her eyes before she sighed. “Y'know, Eugene? You are _lucky_. I'd love to have a soulmate. Know there's someone out there for me. _Only_ for me. It would be very comfortin'. Like, no matter what happens I have my soulmate, still.”

It was Eugene's time to shift. He cleared his throat and scratch his neck. _Soulmate_. Well, for sure he didn't think about Merriell as a soulmate. At first a duty, then a burden. A punishment and now... Now he was something else and he didn't know quite how to call him. But soulmate practically implies the idea of love. He couldn't love someone he never saw or spoke to. And he couldn't just say out loud that he could ever fall in love with a man. Not yet. Not to her. What if she starts thinking lowly of him? He grew very fond of her. She kept him company. He cleared his throat. “Lou, I don't think... I don't think you understand.”

“Understand what?” she asked as she noticed that the streets were a little busier than usual. The traffic slower, as well.

“What you just said. It's not... Like that. I am not...” He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to say what he was. But he didn't want to say that he _wasn't_.

“What the Hell is goin' on?” Lou frowned and raised her chin, trying to see ahead her. There were far too many cars. She even had to stop in the middle of the road. There were people running everywhere. Some of them crying. Others screaming. “Eugene. Oh, my God.”

Eugene frowned and slowly got out of the car, since it was impossible to move. Lou quickly rushed to do the same as they both looked around. There was smoke and heavy smell of blood. The girl joined him and Eugene could barely feel her anymore. The air was heavy and it burned his shoulders. There was an overturned truck in the middle of the road. The logs it carried scattered all over the road: some over the street, over some the unforntunate cars that were close enough to be hit by the tragedy. The chaos was so thick that for a moment, Eugene could barely walk and had to stop, leaning heavily against a car. Everybody was rushing and trying to help. Eugene began to see white and he had to rub his eyes, his forehead feeling moist. Behind his eyelids, he no longer saw a road, but grass. A jungle instead of a city. The civilians were soldiers and the logs were palm trees that fell over the dead Marines he never got to meet. Even the cold weather slowly turned suffocating, with a Sun shining bright and warm.

Lou's hand pulled him back to the moment when she shook him, looking at him nervously, beyond pale, clearly not knowing what to do. Eugene took a deep breath and forced himself to overcome that dizzying feeling of pure desolation. “Okay.” he breathed. “Okay, come with me.” he grabbed her by the arm and rushed towards the pavement. There were already plenty of people trying to get others out of their cars or help the trucker. Eugene was not sure if they should do that before the ambulance would arrive. But he couldn't even hear the sirens; he understood the good intention of wanting to help in a situation of despair.

A mother and her son were trapped under two logs. The glass of the store window fell over them and only the owner of the place was trying to raise the logs to help them out. Eugene rushed to join him as Lou doubted. She quickly dropped on her knees and tried to brush the pieces of broken glass away from her path and slipped under the logs to help the woman crawl out. Her whole face and arms were covered with small cuts. And her left leg looked like it would need months to heal. But she kept crying about her son. Eugene and the owner of the store continued to lift the logs as Lou slipped back underneath, this time scraping her knees and her hands trying to reach the little boy. The beads of sweat licked down his temples and he felt like his elbows were about to give up at any moment. Then Lou emerged with her hands covered in blood but holding a boy against her.

But the blood not only came from Lou's hands. The shirt of the boy was red and a piece of glass peeked from his side. “Eugene!” she gasped as the mother tried to take the boy away from her, who has his eyes closed probably unconscious.

He kneeled by their side, checking his pulse, remembering a few things from seeing his father work. _You never know when you might need to help someone_ , he remembered his mother saying each time he refused to go with him. “We need to take him to the hospital.” He began to pick him up as the woman wailed. Lou helped her to stand up as she clung to her, limping and crying on her shoulder. “Can you drive us there?”

“Eugene, I... I don't know...” Lou babbled as they headed back to the car, as quick as possible, before it ended up trapped there. He had been teaching her for almost three months, now. Eugene _knew_ she could do it. Perhaps she would have to be paying for more attention than usual, but now it was not the right time to doubt.

“I need you to do it, Lou.” he tried to sound as calm as possible, considering he was carrying a boy that might or might not make it if she didn't act quickly enough.

She only nodded and helped the woman to get inside of the car as Eugene moved to the backseat of the car with the boy. The shard was still there and Eugene knew he shouldn't remove it. He still took off his jumper and pressed it around the wound, to try to keep him from losing more blood. Lou drove them back to the hospital right after she cleaned her hands over her skirt.

*** * ***

The kid died.

They arrived to the hospital and there weren't enough nurses or doctors to help them all. It was too late when it was his turn. Quite a few doctors and many nurses left New Orleans to help the troops with the war, many soldiers would end up injured; wounded. And they would need their help. But so they did, here. Eugene never stopped to think that civilians, during the times of war, could also get hurt even while miles away from the battlefield. Not until now, when tragedy happened so easily, and because of the mistake of one person. No cruelty, no intention. Just a mistake.

The aura of the boy faded as they tried to keep him alive while they waited and the mother's soul became dust when he exhaled. Lou held his hand and took him away from the waiting room. It was unbearable to hear her scream and cry because her son was no longer there. Eugene didn't even notice he was crying until Lou made him sit down with her on a bench, away from the people, the chaos and the pain. She held his hands and squeezed them. Hers were dirty as his. Eugene shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“It's not your fault.” Her left hand raised and cupped his cheek, wiping his tears with her thumb. Her fingers were shaking; she was as shocked as he was, probably. “You can't always help everybody, Eugene.”

“I should. It's what I am supposed to do.” he shook his head once again, covering his face with his hands. The smell of blood made the blame heavier; real.

“You are no doctor, Eugene.” she tried once again. “You help people in another way. It's not your fault.”

“If I am supposed _heal_ people, I shouldn't leave anyone helpless.”

Lou sighed and looked at him for a few seconds before she smiled a little bit. “Happy Prince.” She wrapped an arm around him. Eugene hid his face on her shoulder and she caressed his back.

He smiled a bit, briefly, remembering the old tale. “Are you the swallow, then?”

*** * ***

Three days after the accident, Eugene volunteered. He said that he was willing to do anything. Either drive ambulances, help with the management of the hospital or even assist the nurses and doctors. Anything they could need, he was willing to do. The day had plenty of hours: he could spend every morning at the hospital and then return to Mamaw after lunch and help her as he had been doing since last summer. The old woman told him that he was far too good. Eugene smiled and shook his head. The director of the hospital seemed to be a bit puzzled. When he was asked if he had any experience, Eugene had to say that he didn't, but that his father was a doctor and that he was rather familiar with certain technicalities. That he was not clueless and that he was willing to learn as fast as possible. A pair of hands more for sure wouldn't hurt.

For the following weeks, they instructed him and any sort of question of worry he had, he spoke about it with his father. He could hear his father's pride when he said that he volunteered. His mother even gasped, clearly glued to her father's side while they kept talking through the phone. It was funny how he was making them far more proud now than when he was there. Maybe he was doing things right. Maybe this was, after all, what he was meant to do: help. And not only in the way he had been doing, so far. If he could heal a soul, as Mamaw said, why not heal a body? Why not try to do his best?

His father told him that he should not let this opportunity pass. That as soon as September would start, that he should try to go to college. Get a degree (they would pay for it, there's no way they won't do it) and become a doctor. That the war would end, eventually, and that he would have plenty of experience by the time he would finish. Eugene said that he would think about it. That as long as he could stay in New Orleans (not that he didn't want to come back, just... he started to like it here) and handle his schedule, that he would do it. His father said that they were proud of him. _Very_ proud of him. And that he should absolutely visit them during Christmas, that they missed him.

Eugene promised to go.

**MAY, 1943**

People got sick. It was as simple as that. They got sick, and they needed help to recover. Some of them already knew Eugene, because they saw him at Mamaw's hut more than once. And those who knew him, smiled. Eugene would never know how it was to be given a medal for something heroic. Or how it would be to win a battle. Or to be cheered on the streets if the soldiers ever make it back home, victorious and proud. But he knew how it was to feel the warmth of those who were grateful because you aided them.

And it felt good. It made him feel good with himself. Maybe that was enough. Maybe, if he kept doing this, he wouldn't feel like he failed anyone. _Maybe_.

His job at the hospital was tough, but he couldn't complain. The girls that volunteered ended up becoming nurses and the boys... Well. They were volunteers. Even if they did the very same job, most of the time. There weren't that many men. They were either quite young or unfitting to become a soldier, as Eugene was. They either had minor heart problems or perhaps some sort of physical condition that kept them from being what the army wanted. The doctors that stayed were the oldest that could or did not want to travel across the sea and submit themselves to the awful conditions the battlefield offered.

Eugene liked it there and he got to know Judith Blum a little more.

Turns out that she wanted to become a nurse before the war started. She also said that she would have wanted to help the troops, but that her father Yosef was quite old and a got sick easily and she couldn't possibly leave him alone. Of course, that was also before she met Phyllis.

They usually had lunch together and learned many things about her. He knew that while everybody called her Judith, she always wrote her name as Yehudit. He knew that she was an only child and that her mother died when she was little. That her parents came from Poland after the Great War and that they used to have a little store.

She also told him, with a quieter voice and looking around, how she met Phyllis. Eugene listened to her and never interrupted. She narrated a love story that while being so extraordinary, it sounded quite common: they met through a friend. They started to speak, and while Judith didn't really understand Phyllis' snarky humor and sudden mood swings, she started to like her more and more. Eugene couldn't help but smile a bit when she said those words while blushing and playing her food.

She never tried to ask him anything. She answered his questions and gave her understanding looks when toyed with his hands as he felt that many words died on his throat.

“Does he know?” Eugene asked one day.

“Who?” she tilted her head.

“Your father.” he mumbled.

“Oh...” Judith nodded and licked her lips. “He does, now.”

Eugene felt a rush: “You told him?”

“Well... I think...” she sighed. “At first, when I was little, he always told me that I would have to find a good boy to marry. Jewish, if possible.” she bit the corner of her lip, smiling slightly. “But I think he saw that... that was not me. So he stopped. Then he started to say that I should find _someone_ that would love me back. That if _they_ made me happy, he would be happy. And I did.” she snorted lowly, amused. “And that turned out to be a goy girl.”

In that moment, Eugene couldn't help but think that there's no one that could ever have a say on who they fall in love with. It happens and sometimes you are lucky, and sometimes you are not. “Does he... Did they ever meet?”

Judith nodded. As she saw that Eugene visibly leaned forward to listen to her, she began to speak again: “He likes her. You know Phyllis, she's very... straightforward. And _Tate_ likes that. They get along.”

“That's...” Eugene didn't want to say _weird_.

“I know.” But she understood, either way. “I guess I am very lucky.”

“Do you feel that way?”

Judith smiled and nodded, slowly. “There are things I might not be able to do in public. Or say. And sometimes I have to deal with a man's attention.” That was clearly unwanted and always rejected. “But I see her everyday. And I don't have to hide at home. My _Tate_ loves me and she's by my side. I might as well be the luckiest girl in Louisiana.” she hummed, sweetly.

“Aren't you scared of what might happen?” Eugene couldn't help but feel a little bit pessimistic.

“When?” she took a bite of her lunch.

“When the men come back. It's not so usual for girls to not... marry.” A man that does not marry is because he didn't find the proper woman for him. A woman that does not marry is because no man would want her. Didn't sound all too fair when he thought about it properly.

“Even if they come back, I'll still be the same. You know what they say, Sledge. _If there's a will, there's a way_. And there's nothing I want more than grow old with Phyllis.”

Eugene could see that her spirit was hopeful and pure. _Kind_. And he thought that she deserved a long and peaceful life with a beloved one: “I really hope you do. She's only tolerable when you are around.” he joked a little bit.

**JUNE, 1943**

She already read the letters her father and cousin sent her. Her mother asked her to read them out loud while she made dinner and her younger siblings listened to her. Pip recently turned seven and didn't really understand what was going on. He just said the word war here and there, thinking that perhaps it was a destination more than a purpose. Adele turned visibly sad each time she dwelled in the fact that their father was gone and that she wouldn't see their cousin Eugene each time they went to their aunt's house.

Lou always read Merriell's letters alone, when she had a few minutes for herself and her siblings were not pestering her in their shared bedroom. It's been eighteen months since he left and this was only the second letter he sent her. _Well_. The second letter he sent at all. She asked Mamaw if she got any and the woman shook her head. Lou lied when she said that neither she got any. But that was only _Merry being himself_. They would know if he... died. They would come and let them know. He was alive. He was fine. Merry was a crazy boy. If someone could survive a war, it was him. Thin and yet tougher than any other. Cleverer, as well.

But Mamaw was convinced he would make it back home. She didn't allow herself to doubt. She had enough with worrying about her father and cousin. So she tried to enjoy him his letter before writing her reply.

_Little Lulu,_

_I just know. Not important. If you don't tell Mamaw, then this is a secret between you and me. And as soon as I get back, I'll remind you these words: you just love being called Lulu._

Now that was a bit of _stretch_. She didn't love it, she just missed it because she missed him. Lou smiled and furrowed her nose. She snorted and rolled her eyes with some amusement. Now, she was not very sure why Mamaw didn't want him to know that Eugene was there. But they were meant to be! She just knew. She looked at them and she knew. Ah, she'd love to have a soulmate as well. Lucky boys!

_A hand with three fingers does not make a face any uglier. Don't sweat it, girl._

They kept saying that she shouldn't worry, but she couldn't lie: she felt like it would keep bothering her. But she didn't want to think about her fingers. They were right behind the letter, therefore, less important, right now.

_He sounds like a clever boy, huh? Don't scare him off before I come back. I'd like to talk to him. Ask him a few things. And are you sure he got mad at you for no reason? How many times you got Roe frustrated because you are a brat? Oh, little Lulu, you sure need to grow up._

“You asshole.” she huffed. It was her fault that he got frustrated!

_You stay away from any bullshit that has to do with this war, okay? I'd tell you this is no place for a girl, but this is no place for no one. And no, Lulu, I don't understand. I'm eating as much as possible, now. We are in Australia. You'd like it. People go dancing all the time, here._

_I'll be there before you know it._

_Merriell_

_P.S. Yeah, send the picture. Wanna see you both._

Lou grinned as she read the last sentence. He always pretended to not be interested on anything. Like he could survive without showing any kindness or getting any sort of affection. Lou didn't consider herself the cleverest girl in New Orleans but she could tell that Merry had always been hungry for love. He adored to be praised and caressed. He just needed that to keep going. And he barely got it from anyone, because he always aimed to be offensive and distant. But she saw how he melted and grinned when Mamaw patted his head when they were children. And how he liked to have girls whispering on his ear while he smoked when he grew up. And she could also tell that what he was missing, Eugene had it. And she didn't think it was strange.

Well. Perhaps a little bit. Because she was not used to think about boys in that way: _together_. But it made sense. If Merry was so desperate for affection and Eugene's touch, alone, could soothe anyone, then it made sense that they had to be together. In any way they would want to be. But knowing how Merry loved to sabotage himself and how quickly Eugene got frustrated and distant, she also thought they would need plenty of help.

And it's not like she had nothing better to do considering that her romantic life was beyond dead, at the moment... It had always been. But someday she would find a boy she could love. That's a worry for later.

Lou jumped out of the bed and tried to find a pencil underneath her bed. She dropped one not that long ago...

*** * ***

“Where y'at, Eugene?” she grinned as she saw him.

“Hanging there.” He sure looked a little more tired ever since he worked at the hospital. She decided to be nice and not say that out loud.

“Hop in.”

Eugene joined her inside the car and rolled his shoulders. Sometimes she drove him back home (as close as they could get with a car), so he wouldn't have to take the bus. Mostly when her uncle allowed her to borrow the car. She didn't have money to buy one, and Eugene didn't seem all too interested, either. She began to drive and looked at him from the corner of her eyes, from time to time.

“Eyes on the road, Lou.” he reminded her, once again.

“So, I was thinkin', Eugene...”

“Oh, _boy_.”

“I've had nothing but good ideas since you came here.”

“Is that debatable?”

“ _No_.”

“Then you absolutely did.” He grinned and looked through the window. “So what is it?”

“I think we should have our picture taken.”

Eugene frowned and looked at her: “Why?”

“Could be fun.” she shrugged.

“It's really not that fun.”

“Could be interesting.”

“Ah... Neither?”

“I want to have our picture taken, Eugene.”

“I'm sorry, Lou. I really don't see the point.”

“Why not?” she even whined a little bit. Then reminded herself that she should act like a mature girl. Be casual about it. That's how you get boys to do what you want: act like you don't care. Or so she heard. “It's a good excuse to dress up nicely. Look good. Like, _whatever_.”

Eugene visibly squinted as she kept talking. “ _Whatever_.” he repeated.

“Yeah, _whatever_.” she tried but she couldn't help but urge him once again: “What do you think?”

“I think that my nose looks big in photographs.”

“Your nose _is_ big.” Lou regretted her words as soon as they came out. She pressed her lips together and cursed herself. “I mean! But a beautiful kind of big.” Eugene continued to look at her. Lou couldn't help but talk again, digging her grave. “You are a handsome boy, Eugene. There's nothin' wrong with havin' a big nose. We all have big somethin'. Or small!! Or... none at all.” Christ, this was complicated. “You are very _very_ beautiful, Eugene. You should have your picture taken every day.”

Eugene parted his lips before he finally said: “You know I love you like... a _sister_ , right?”

What the Hell was he even trying to say? Lou curled her nose and shook her head: “Ew, no!”

“ _Ew_?” he huffed, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, no! Not _ew_ , just... Not... That was not what I was tryin' to imply!”

“What are you trying to imply, then?”

“Nothing, I just want a fuckin' picture of us!”

Eugene hushed her when she cursed.

*** * ***

She kept asking and asking, and Eugene always gave her the very same answer: _no_.

**SEPTEMBER, 1943**

The Health Sciences Center of New Orleans seemed to be his best option. It barely had twelve years of history and prestige and it was a public university, but he didn't want to have to buy a car or get any further than necessary. Before moving to Louisiana, Eugene thought that going to college would be a shame. That it would be a way to show the world that he had been rejected. That was not fit to become a soldier, and therefore, far from being brave or... a _man_. Now, he was more and more convinced that while right now wanting to help and know what he was doing was enough. But that it wouldn't be enough once everybody would return. And he wanted to be able to keep working. Truth to be told, it had never been in his plans to become a doctor. But his sense of duty had always been far too strong. But, at the same time, he couldn't picture himself doing anything else anymore.

Sure, he'd love to lay down, observe the birds and write. But he could do that _and_ help. Or perhaps do it in the future. There was no rush. That's what he was managing to understand: there was time. Life brings you things and you slowly accept them into your life. You get used to them. Just like he got used to having a heart condition, to know how to be an older brother, to ride a bike, to live in a new state and how he got used to be able to contemplate Merriell's picture each time before he went to bed. He dreamed about him, and then he thought about him some more. He was not there and yet there wasn't a single day in which the boy was not in Eugene's head.

The flame was still bright but no longer abrasive. Merriell kept him warm in a very strange way. Sometimes it bothered him, and other times he was grateful that he was in his mind. He wanted to... talk to him. Hear his voice. He pictured his accent a bit like Mamaw's. But perhaps with Lou's energy. Or maybe it was the opposite: with Lou's messy English dusted with Cajun French and with Mamaw's curtness.

He wanted to discover how he smelled like, too. He got a small glimpse already; but each time those sheets smelled more like him and less like Merriell. Fabric was not enough. He wanted to know how his flesh and his skin smelled like. His hair. _Everything_. And while he got hungrier, little times he indulged himself. There was still a very well marked limit between thinking about him and taking himself to a point of sweat and moans. And yet, his body still burned to only think that Merriell would be by his side. _Someday_.

A non-indulging sweet fever that he made sure to atone every morning with a prayer and a cold shower.

But the thing was that the less he punished himself, the less he worried. Talking with Phyllis helped him. Talking with Judith soothed him. Talking with Mamaw guided him. Talking with Lou made him feel confident of who he was. He knew that he was not quite there, where he wanted to be. He was still not proud: he still couldn't say it out loud (should he? Why does it feel like a _confession_?). He simply stopped harming himself for something he never had the power to control.

And maybe because he felt a little more comfortable with himself, Eugene didn't feel the pressure to have to find _the one_. He politely declined each time a girl (either a classmate or a nurse) offered to spend time with him. Sometimes they asked if he already had someone. Eugene smiled but never answered. They either assumed he was either in love but suffering because he was not reciprocated or that he was far too shy or perhaps too catholic to indulge in certain things. The less he had to explain, the better.

**MOBILE, DECEMBER 1943**

Deacon looked tired and he wouldn't leave his side. He rested his head over his thigh, whining and looking up at him. Eugene caressed his head and his back, patting it, trying to offer as much affection as he could, and perhaps ask forgiveness for leaving him behind. He would have taken him if he had known where he was going to live. The idea of losing him in the middle of the bayou (and with the clear warning that there were alligators in some areas) terrified him. He should have visited sooner.

Eddie was taller and perhaps a little more cynical. He didn't speak much to Eugene no matter how much he tried. He merely asked him to leave his room when he sat one his bed that morning, trying to ask how things were going. Eugene didn't consider he did anything wrong. He wrote them letters every single week. And called them from time to time. It was not his fault that found New Orleans far more freeing than Mobile. His mother told him that it was nothing. That _teenagers were just like that_ , and that _he also went through complicated years_. That _he would forget about it_.

Eugene couldn't help but feel a little bit like a stranger in his own house.

His parents looked proud of him, though. And that made him happy. His mother kept telling him that it was very noble of him to want to help people: body and soul. And that he would be rewarded for his good actions. It was enough of a reward for him to see people doing better after he had an impact on their lives. Of course, his father was proud that he was following his steps.

And Eugene slowly began to understand. Maybe that was why Eddie was so frustrated and angry at him. How would it be to have to compete with someone who was not even there? When he was doing his best and his parents probably kept talking about him? Perhaps he should apologize. Perhaps he should give him time and space.

The more he thought about his family like he would as a stranger, the more he started to understand them. He also noticed that he slowly stopped thinking about his parents as Mama and Papa, and more like his mother and his father. Like the relationship was, perhaps, a little bit more distant but far less dependant. He no longer needed them to be a shield between him and the world. Eugene felt like he was capable to do things he would have never thought about before. Maybe that's just growing up. And while he didn't feel any wiser, he did feel older. Like he had some experience behind his back. Two whole years of frustrations and discoveries. And there was still so much more to live; so much more for him to become.

“You look different.” his father told him while he smoked. His mother was moving from one room to the other as Rose followed her, to get everything ready for dinner.

Eugene looked from Deacon to his father and smiled a bit. He played a bit with the fur of his pet and replied: “I feel different.”

“You look happier, as well.”

He continued to smile and looked away, not wanting to make him feel like being away from them was what made him feel happier: “I've been trying to understand myself a little bit better.” he finally nodded.

His father smiled and continued to look at him. Eugene didn't shift or felt uncomfortable. He was not trying to find out what he was trying to say, as his mother would have done. Just appreciating the little changes he introduced into his life. Being glad that he was happier, now, no matter which would be the cause for such consequence.

He remembered his conversation with Judith. And how her father knew about her relationship with Phyllis. And how he had been _okay_ with it. Eugene knew that his father was a reasonable man. Kind, as well. But would he accept it? Would he be able to say it? And once again, should he say it like it was a confession? Or simply a part of himself?

“I...” Eugene found himself speaking before he was had the time to think about it. “I'm different.” he ended up saying something his father already noticed, right away. “Now I am. I'm no longer what I was.” he whispered and licked his lips, looking at him briefly, hoping and practically begging he would understand without the need to say anything more.

His father continued to smile and denied, slowly. “No.” Eugene became nervous. “You are not different because you _changed_. You changed because you are the same and you are happy, now.”

“So...” Deacon placed his paw over his knee and Eugene found the strength to carry on. “You are... Would you be okay with... if I... If I were... like _that_?”

“You are my son, Eugene. I love you. And I am _proud_ of you.” there was no pretense. The words were not spoken out of duty but out of affection and endearment.

“No matter what?” he whispered.

“That sounds like you've something wrong. I don't think there's _anything_ wrong with you.”

And just like that, he was breathless. His heart even stopped for a couple of seconds before it started to beat faster and louder than it ever did before. Eugene felt eyes itching. He bowed his head forward and rubbed them. Deacon licked the first tear that rolled down his cheek. His father sighed and stood up from the armchair. He rested his hand over his shoulder and squeezed. Eugene rested his head against his stomach and his father wrapped his arm around him, patting his head, gently. He had nothing to fear; not around him.

“Come on, dry your eyes before your mother can see you. You know she will worry.” he encouraged him.

Eugene slowly nodded and brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes. His parents were different. His father was a calm man that rarely got mad. Or felt like people needed of his approval to carry on. His mother was different. Perhaps a little more judgmental. Eugene was still scared of her reaction. And for sure he was not quite ready to face her. No matter if it had been her who sent him to New Orleans, in the first place.

He took a deep breath and leaned back, calmer now. Bit by bit, Eugene felt more like himself and far less like the boy that used to live in this house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE: 
> 
> In Louisiana, the driving examination was not necessary until 1946.  
> The tale Lou mentions when she comforts Eugene is The Happy Prince, a short story written by Oscar Wilde. We can say that the moral of the story is that the prince (that is, actually, a statue made of gold and jewels) was so selfless that was willing to give everything he had to make others happy.
> 
> TRANSLATION:
> 
> Goy: It means nation. Goyim in plural. Used to talk about non-Jewish people.  
> Tate: Father in Yiddish.  
> "Where y'at?" or "Where are you at (i.e. in life)?" as a way of asking "How are you?"


	8. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Peleliu landing almost got him killed. He got hit and fell right on his ass, like a fucking toddler. There, in the middle of the beach, he didn't even have time to call for anyone. The impact on his shoulder left him breathless for a second. He looked up at the sky and thought: that's fucking it? And then he thought about Mamaw. He thought about Lulu. And yes, he fucking thought about Eugene and he couldn't put a face to his name. Like Hell I'm dying here.  
> He got back up and started to run. 
> 
> OR 
> 
> 1944, no one can tell Merriell that Eugene is not a ginger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upload earlier because I finished this chapter and it made no sense to wait until Friday. Maybe I should have, considering that I yet have to start chapter nine. But... Hey! I am getting a little anxious myself. It will be the very last chapter before they meet! And I've been /dying/ to write chapter ten ever since I started this story. We are getting there, kids! :'D  
> (Like, it will be a mess but hey, at least they will interact with each other). 
> 
> By the way, this chapter is short and the first part is bad. I personally like Snafu's pov far better in this chapter. But I couldn't manage to write anything better. Apologies!!

**JUNE 1944**

When Deacon died the very first week of January, Eugene knew it would be a bad year. He cried when he saw him for the very first time and he cried when he saw him for the last time, as well. During that Christmas, Deacon followed him around as much as he could, tired and old. Eugene spent until the very last minute with him. He had him for more than ten years, that should be enough to convince him that he had a long and happy life. But he still couldn't help but feel devastated.

He came back to New Orleans and told Lou the news. She offered him one of her most sympathetic smiles. She let him tell her all about Deacon and even said that he was such a cute dog when he showed her a few pictures. His parents allowed him to take as many as he wanted as Eddie looked at him from another room with something that could only be described as complete and utter distaste.

Eugene would give him time. Let him understand that his worth didn't have to be compared to anything he was doing.

And then? For the following six months, Eugene struggled to keep up. He was studying, working and then helping Mamaw. He barely had time for anything else. Just help and offer as much as he had. More than once Lou told him that he should take it easy. That he would not be able to help anyone if he fell ill.

That morning, Mamaw rested a hand on his shoulder and looked down at him. She said: “They are goin' to need you more than ever.”

Eugene could swallow a bite of his breakfast and asked: “Who?”

“Everybody.” she denied and sat down by his side. “This is is goin' to be the worst year. Startin' today, _Ange_. Don't leave Louloute alone, tonight.”

“Is something going to happen to her?”

“I can't stop thinking about her father.” And Eugene knew what that meant. He had been around Mamaw for two years and a half. When the woman couldn't stop thinking about someone it's because death would find them soon.

Eugene didn't know what to say. He doubted he could help anyone to feel any better while mourning. “Let's hope you are wrong, this time.”

Mamaw's face let him know that, probably, she had never been wrong before. And that it was unlikely this would be the first time. “Watch after her. Her Maman...” she snorted and showed that she had plenty of problems with Elise ever since Lou lost her fingers. Awful things were said from the mother's part, such as that she had no business in her family and that Constance would have wanted her to respect her as a mother. Mamaw practically ate her alive when she dared to mention what Connie would have wanted. No one could speak about the deceased woman without getting a word or two from Mamaw. “She won't let me inside of her house. So if she breaks down, _Ange_ , you bring 'er to me.”

“Okay.” he breathed and nodded, forcing himself to start to get used to the idea. “We'll watch after her.”

Mamaw pressed a kiss against his forehead and stayed in silence.

*** * ***

“Yes?” Adele frowned as she looked up at him. It was not very usual for them to get any visit after dinner.

“Can Lou come out for a moment?” Eugene asked, smiling politely. He never got to speak much to her siblings or her mother. Even less lately when he barely saw Lou, only when she could drive him back home.

“...No.” Adele frowned some more, closing the door. Eugene assumed she just wanted to be protective. Or perhaps she feared the day her sister would leave them to start a new family herself.

“Wait!” he quickly placed a hand on the door. “Please?”

Adele was perhaps far more similar to Elise than she was to her older sister, because she was not going to say a word more to Eugene and pushed the door once again. But right before she could slam the door on his face, he heard Lou's voice.

“Eugene! Hey, wait!” she pushed her sister away with her hip and looked at him a little worried. “What do you want? Is everythin' alright?”

“Yeah, I just thought that maybe you wanted to go out for a bit.” he tried to play it as casual as possible.

“Why?” she squinted.

“No reason.” he shrugged.

“You literally had the whole day to come up with a good excuse and that's all you got?” she smirked, raising an eyebrow as she kept moving Adele away from the door, so she could get out of the house.

“ _Je le dis à Maman_.” Adele huffed.

Lou merely shrugged and closed the door. Maybe she was truly on not the best terms with her mother.

*** * ***

Three in the morning and Lou was practically begging him to let her go back home. That she was tired and that she had to work, next morning. Eugene, eventually, had to be a reasonable: he would be busy the following day, too. So he ended up nodding and walking her, hoping that whatever that was about to happen, already did and he could at least be there to soften the blow.

Eugene waited as she slipped inside of the house, like the danger was hiding behind the door. And maybe it was. The lights were on and he could hear the muffled voice of a man: _Bob Trout_. The radio. Eugene frowned a bit as Lou seemed slightly puzzled that her mother was still awake. She looked worried while sitting close to the device, with her head resting on her hand.

“What goin' on?” she asked as she walked towards her mother, approaching the armchair. Eugene followed her and closed the door. The last of Elise's worries was where her daughter had been until now or why on Earth she had been out with a boy way past midnight.

“An invasion.” she grabbed Lou's hands and squeezed them, to shut her up.

Eugene sat down by Lou's side, keeping his arm glued to hers, just to let her know that he was there. No matter what she would hear next.

He had been keeping up with both wars. The one across The Pacific and the one across The Atlantic. Most of the things he knew about what was happening in Europe, he read about in the newspapers, but he also recalled how Lou said that the troops were moved to England so they could, at any time, fight the Nazis.

The report had been obtained from the German resources; there was still not confirmation from the Allies. Two hours ago, Berlin's radio reported an invasion from the British and American troops through the coast of Normandy. When the word _paratroops_ was mentioned, Lou inhaled and closed her eyes. Her whole spirit trembled and Eugene rested a hand on her back. He couldn't help but think that while Mamaw warned her about her father, she didn't say anything about her cousin. So he whispered, gently and low: “He'll be fine.” But it did surprise him when Elise didn't reach out for her daughter or encouraged her to believe him.

Lou smiled, faintly and nodded.

They spent the whole night awake, listening to the radio: waiting for the worst and getting nothing but the same information over and over again. The next morning, when he noticed that he didn't really have the time to go back home and get ready for the day, Lou said that he could use their shower if he wanted. Then she lend him some spare clothes that belonged to her father. Perhaps they looked a bit baggy on him, but not enough to make him feel self-conscious.

Adele dedicated him a terrible look, only aware of the invasion that implied having Eugene sitting down at their table, having breakfast with them and wearing her father's clothes. He left early with Lou and bought the newspaper.

_**GERMANS SAY ALLIED TROOPS POURING ASHORE ON NORMANDY PENINSULA AND AT LE HAVRE** _

Lou sighed and shook her head. Perhaps, one of the things Eugene hated the most from war was the fact that you never knew things for sure.

“I'll see you later, okay? Try to not overthink.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and she smiled a little bit, finding comfort in the touch he offered.

“Sure.”

*** * ***

“We don't know anything yet.” Eugene told Mamaw that night.

“He's already gone.” the woman said.

He looked down and cleared his throat. “I don't... I couldn't possibly tell her...” He didn't want to be the one telling her her father died. Not when he clearly recalled how a couple of months ago Lou told him that while she had never been too close to her father, she felt like she could finally speak to him during the war. That it was easier to let him know about how she felt and how much she loved him through letters better than with spoken words. She also told him that her father promised to recover the time lost once he came back. That he would make it up for her for not being there as much he should have been.

“You did well.” Mamaw nodded. “You stay with 'er this Friday, huh? Remember what I told you, _Ange_?”

“That if she breaks down, I should bring her here, to you.”

Mamaw nodded and caressed his head, briefly.

*** * ***

On Wednesday, Eugene could tell she already noticed: it was not like he was leaving her side at any moment. On, Thursday, Lou even whispered: _who is it? Which one?_ Eugene smiled and said he didn't understand her. She knew he lied but didn't push it, far too scared, perhaps, to get an answer. And Friday? Friday was the end.

She drove him back to the very end of the road, where she lived, by the bayou. Her mother kept their grandmother's house and her aunt, Suzette, bought the one right across the street. Lou parked right between the two of them and waited. She closed her eyes and breathed evenly. Eugene could already hear a woman crying. Maybe her aunt, crying for the loss of her cousin. Or her mother crying for her father. Eugene only needed to look at her to understand that either way, no matter which one would be, it would hurt just as much.

“Okay...” she whispered to herself before she walked out of the car. Eugene wrapped an arm around her. She was tense and about to snap. Lou blinked plenty of times as she headed towards the door of her house: the crying and wailing was louder and far more desperate. Eugene could smell pure desolation; death. Irremediable and painful as it is for everyone.

Lou reached for the handle of the door and then she saw a small letter on the floor. Eugene saw how she picked it up and then she couldn't stand up anymore. She made herself smaller and smaller each time, pressing herself against the floor and hiding her face on her lap. Eugene crouched down and tried to hug her.

“Lou, it's okay. Come on, it's okay.” his words felt like they could bring little comfort. Of course it was not okay. It was far from it and yet, what else could he say in this situation? When death takes, what are you supposed to say?

She raised the notification with a trembling hand. Eugene took it away from her like that, alone, could poison her. He read it briefly, letting them know about something Mamaw warned him about days ago, before it even happened:

_The Secretary of War desires me to express his deepest regret that your husband Corporal Nicolas LeBlanc was killed in action the sixth of June in Omaha Beach, Normandy, France._

And that's it.

A couple of lines to explain a tragedy. Was it really worth it? To give your life, everything that you _truly_ had, to end up becoming a couple of lines? Lou kept trembling between his arms and he could finally see she was suffocating her own voice with her hands, trying to not be heard by anyone. To not be noticed by the ones inside of her house, unable to accept the burden that would imply to be comforted by others. That would make her father's death _far too real_.

But with her hands right in front of her face, pressing against her nose and mouth, she was only choking and forcing herself to hyperventilate. “Lou.” he tried to move her hands away, but she was far too stubborn. “Lou!” he hissed, pushing her arms down. She choked out and let her head fall over his shoulder. Then she cried, low and _desperate_.

Eugene felt how her spirit expanded, stretching and about to break. When a soul breaks it takes so much healing to glue it back together. And it sure never looks as good as new. He hugged her tightly, in hopes that would keep hers from that terrible fate.

Lou kept crying and people started to step out of their houses. They became the unavoidable situation. The most sympathetic ones rubbed their eyes or whispered a prayer before they returned back home. The ones Eugene quickly learned to despise were the ones that stayed to watch and see a family breaking down.

Following Mamaw's advice, Eugene picked her up and took Lou to her hut.

*** * ***

Mamaw told him that she spoke with Lou's aunt, so she would let Elise know that her daughter was staying with her. Eugene didn't notice any argument and neither he heard about the woman showing up to take Lou back home. He considered that was simply... strange. Any other would have thought that Mamaw was trying to keep the girl away from her family, but truth to be told was that Lou found little comfort from her mother at home. And she only wanted to face her siblings once she would be strong enough to not cry even when they would break down thinking about their father.

Nor Eugene or Mamaw were invited to the funeral. Lou went with her eyes red and her soul right on her shoes, dragging it all over the streets of New Orleans. She came back saying that Adele and Pip needed her. And that she needed them as well. Both of them could tell that she was still far from strong or even managing to resign to the fact that her father would never come back. But it was what she felt like she had to do. Eugene understood that need to be responsible and just _deal with it_.

He decided to give her time. To not show up at her house for a while. Sometimes he dropped by at the mercerie where she worked at, but the owner told him that she gave her a couple of weeks off. So she could be with her family.

After nine days, Eugene found himself missing her. And he just had to see her, that afternoon.

“Come in.” she smiled a bit. “You look good, today.”

Eugene pressed his lips and shrugged a little bit, the suit he was wearing made his intentions very clear. “I've been thinking.”

“Oh, _boy_.” it was her time to say, stealing his line.

“Do you want to have our picture taken?” Eugene finally asked, raising his eyebrows a bit.

Lou looked at him and stayed in silence for a couple of seconds. Then she asked: “Right now?”

“Are you busy?”

“No, I look... _terrible_.” she chuckled, shaking her head, still confused.

“I can wait while you fix your face?”

“Oh, very kind of you, Eugene.” not because he didn't get nervous while talking to girls, that meant he was too good at it. It was fair, she told him he had a big nose, either way. Lou placed her hands on her waist and visibly thought about it. It was the worst time to ask someone to take a picture, but Eugene wanted to cheer her up. He could do something he had been denying for almost a whole year. “Alright, then.” she nodded. “Just... Stay here. I need a moment.”

Lou cleaned her face and used her mother's make up to try to hide the sadness and the redness around her eyes. She applied the same pale rouge to her lips and cheeks. The color wouldn't make it into the picture, but she wanted to look _good_. The picture was never about her. It was just a way for Merry to see Eugene before he would return. But she would be there and... while he wouldn't really mind how she would look like, she wanted to bring him some happiness. She didn't want him to worry or see how tragedy already reached her. That's why she stopped herself when she pulled a black dress out of the closet she shared with her siblings.

He would notice right away. And how terrible it would be for a man to see that another in his very same situation already died? Her aunt and mother told her that they wouldn't tell her cousin a single thing. That they had to carry on like nothing happened and once he would be safe, then they would tell him. She had to do the same with Merry.

She left the black dress inside of closet and picked another one: teal. It would look pale grey in their photograph.

*** * ***

A picture (well, two, Lou insisted that she wanted one for her nightstand and another to carry around with her) was not enough to replace the loss of a beloved one. But it helped. A picture, a new memory, a few hours escaping the grief and the sadness. Eugene learned that mourning was not something he could heal. It was not up to him. It was a forced step of life you couldn't possibly skip: something you had to understand, get used to and finally accept. It was up to her. But that didn't mean he could help with the process.

**PELELIU, SEPTEMBER 1944**

After Gloucester, he _felt_ like a veteran. He already saw people dying. Guys that, perhaps, were not his friends but that he saw as human beings. They died, they buried them wherever they could so their bodies wouldn't rot and give them unecessary diseases and they _carried the fuck on_. Each time it was harder to keep acting like a man. To show the little sympathy he had. He looked at the replacements like fresh meat the Japs would shoot at. They wouldn't make it, and he didn't want to give them any human condition because if not, his mind would torture him at night. Tell him that it could happen to him, as well, because he was not any better or any more special than any of them.

The  Peleliu landing almost got him killed. He got hit and fell right on his ass, like a fucking toddler. There, in the middle of the beach, he didn't even have time to call for anyone. The impact on his shoulder left him breathless for a second. He looked up at the sky and thought: _that's fucking it?_ And then he thought about Mamaw. He thought about Lulu. And yes, he fucking thought about Eugene and he couldn't put a face to his name. _Like Hell_ _I'm dying here_.

He got back up and started to run. Why they didn't shoot him again when they clearly had the chance (they already shot him once, why not twice?), he had no idea. But he would make it back home. He was going to survive.

And he was not too bad at it. He killed them and kept moving. You swallow the fear, you force yourself to understand the situation and you kill them all. No satisfaction. No pleasure. Just trying to keep yourself alive and get to see the ones you love again.

Merriell didn't expect to get close to any of them. _Brothers in arms_. The fuck was that, anyway? But slowly, he understood. There were a few, a very selected few, you allowed yourself to care about. Because they've been around for long enough for you to foolishly believe they were immortal. Just like you were after yet another battle won. Merriell had Burgie, De L'Eau and now he also had Romero and Leyden.

You see, Leyden was a complete bitch boy, but he loved to have someone he could torture and constantly target with his jokes. He had to let some malice out, from time to time. So maybe it was not the kindness of his heart wanting a friend, but more like having someone he could bicker with because that helped him to stay sane.

And then there was Romero. Robert Romero he actually knew from New Orleans. Funny guy with a charming smile and that was managing to keep his hair fluffy and shiny during the whole fucking war. Same Robert Romero he saw plenty of times at the club dancing the night away with his pal, Bill Bowers. Same Robert Romero that promised to teach them all how to dance either when this would be over or when they'd be allowed to go to Australia once again to have a rest.

Same Robert Romero that had been getting far too many nicknames ever since Gloucester. Bob Romero. Robbie Romero. Bobbie Romero. And even _Boberto Romero_ , that one time Leyden felt like being funny. _Romie_ for practically everybody and even _Private Mom_ for a few.

Romie was the guy you'd want right by your side. He'll get you a blanket if you need one. He'll share the last drops of water he has with you. He'll tell a joke at night when you can't stop thinking about the carnage you saw during the day. Romie was the only person that didn't call him Snafu and perhaps, Merriell was putting all the heavy weight of his last bits of humanity on him. But the guy kept smiling and making it through the day. So he guessed it was not too bad.

He was still by his side when they got their letters. Romie got one from his mother and another from his aunt. He didn't know Spanish, so there was no way he could ever find out what they were trying to say to him. He usually shared, afterwards.

Mamaw was still pretending that Eugene was not there. And Eugene, Merriell assumed, couldn't bother himself to step in and send him a fucking letter himself. Not that he was getting angry about it. He didn't give a damn. That boy was absolutely going to ignore his sorry ass once he gets back home. He was sure he was one of these bougie boys too good for the universe. Well... Fuck him. He didn't care. Not one bit.

Like, he could tell that Sid Phillips (he never got to find out who he was) that he was his... what? _Humble servant_? Or something like that? And he could write him a couple of lines? Or a simply: _hang there, boy_? Fuck him. All the way.

_Dear Merry,_

_It took me longer than a year. You owe me. Big time!_

_xoxo Lou ♡_

That's it? Merriell frowned and looked inside the envelope. _Fuck_. _Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck!!_

He noticed that his hands were trembling when he slipped his fingers inside the envelope and took the little picture. It would fit perfectly inside of his breast pocket. And fuck him if he was not going to keep it there until the very end of the war.

Merriell quickly covered the boy's face with his thumb. Like that could help him to get his heart under control before seeing him. Lulu looked different. Well, duh. When he left she was fifteen years old, and it's been almost three years since then. Her smile was wide, showing her teeth and making her cheeks look full. Her hair was a little longer, right over her shoulders, and she looked... _well_. More like a woman than he expected her to. Because, fuck. Yes, time did not stop. It kept going. And yet war became such a big part of him that he failed to see the lingering sadness on her eyes. And the sight of her make him so happy that he absolutely refused the idea that any harm could reach her back home.

Merriell took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, giving himself courage. He could kill a bunch of men and he couldn't look at the picture of one? That was mental. He was truly going insane.

He could do it. It was fine. Romie was still reading his letters and so were the ones that got them. Even fucking Leyden got a letter and he had been here for... what? Ten days? Merriell looked down at the picture once again and slowly moved his thumb away and saw him for the very first time.

And his mouth was dry and his eyes felt moist. Merriell parted his lips and exhaled, gentle and low. Look at him like he is not everything he ever wanted and _more_. Eugene had a long face and a prominent nose. And fuck him if that was not the most beautiful nose he'd ever seen in his damn life. His eyes looked dark; his eyebrows thin and delicate. His lips were the palest gray and Merriell already toyed with the idea of kissing them until they would become a shade or two darker. Funny how he hasn't been able to feel any hint of lust ever since this shit started and now he wanted nothing but go back home swimming and drag him to his bedroom.

Merriell breathed heavily and made himself comfortable. His thumb caressed the surface and then his attention moved from his lips to his hair. It looked thin, parted off to the side, and like it would smell marvelous. Christ, he wanted to smell something sweet and clean. He'll bury his face on his hair and inhale until his boy will shove him away. His hair was monochromatic but far lighter than Lou's black hair. But not light enough to be blonde. And that encouraged to think that he was either a brunette or... A redhead.

If he was a redhead, Merriell was lost. He was absolutely lost. And... Everything he thought about a few seconds ago? He forgave him. For not sending a letter or not giving a fuck. How could he not forgive him everything with that face? Merriell felt like his Gene could stab him right on his fucking chest and he would probably thank him. Follow him around the streets just in hopes for him to look at him, even if it was with disgust or complete indifference. Just _anything_. Anything he'd give him, he would cherish it like a fucking treasure.

 _God, fuck_. He exhaled, deep enough to catch attentions.

“Got a picture, Snafu?” Burgie asked, knowing damn well he did. But he was probably getting his revenge for having to deal with him for longer than two years, now.

“Any of you touches it with your greasy fuckin' hands and I will kill you.” he warned them because they were already moving to take a look. Like they haven't seen human beings in centuries; like fucking animals.

“Who's the dame? Louise?” Burgie spoke once again, earning a frown from Snafu. How the Hell did he know that? “She always writes to you.” He shrugged, being able to guess what he was thinking.

“Yeah, Louise and her new boyfriend.” Leyden sneered.

“He ain't her boyfriend.” Merriell snapped at him, practically barking.

Leyden only grinned: “He is banging your chick, Snafu. I bet she even told you in her letter. _Dear Snafu, I have found someone else and I am dropping your crazy ass._ ”

“Like she'd call me Snafu, you dumb fuck.”

Leyden blew him a a kiss and he was truly about to stab him wherever he could reach him.

“Then who are they?” De L'Eau finally asked.

“She's the cousin of a friend o' mine. He's...” _he's mine_ , he wanted to say. “He's family.” That didn't make any sense because he was not related to him in any sort of way but it felt _good_ to say that out loud. Better than lying or saying that he was just a friend.

Leyden was about to say that it was _impossible_ they were family before Romie interrupted him: “Wait, that's Roe's cousin? Eugene Roe's cousin? Louise?” he leaned closer to him. Even sitting down the man was far taller and Merriell thought it was one of the very few that could irritate him about Romie.

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“Oh, wow...” he mumbled.

Merriell frowned some more and looked at him. “What do you mean _wow_?”

“Nothin'!” he shook his head, offering yet another wide and warm smile. This time Merriell did not buy it. “She looks beautiful. That's all.”

“Beautiful, huh?” he sounded accusatory. “Hey, Burgie, tell me, what month is it?”

“Uh... September.” Burgie answered.

“ _Still_?” Leyden whined.

“Then keep your hands away from your dick at night, Romero, she's still seventeen for a couple of weeks more.” he snorted, managing to make Romie blush and shake his head.

Jack off to this picture would be like doing so to a picture of Virgin Mary: distasteful even for someone like Merriell. Fuck him if this, _alone_ , is not going to put him through whatever might be coming his way.

**NEW ORLEANS, NOVEMBER 1944**

Turns out that Normandy landing did not only take Lou's father life. It had been the bloodiest landing in the war fought in Europe until now. Many soldiers were killed in action, but plenty of others had been wounded. Their lives were saved either by medics or the doctors that travelled with the army to be able to keep them on the battlefield for as long as possible. But those who had been torn apart far beyond any point of still being able to keep fighting were brought back home.

Eugene witnessed the most vicious side of war, then. Some of them couldn't see or hear anymore. Others lost a limb, two or even the four of them. Others had third degree burns all over their bodies. Others had been disfigured and a few were even sent home to die there, with his family. It was tough and kept him awake at night. It made him feel worried about Merriell. He got to see the consequences of war through Lou's father with his death. But it was not only that. It was the idea of thinking that they could hurt him. That they could ruin his life or force him to stay on a bed for the rest of his days.

Eugene would take care of him. That's what he thought every time. Any of those soldiers could be Merriell and he thought that he would do for him exactly what he did for them. Every single day, he'd do it and help him. And, God help him, but the more he stayed here without him, the more he wanted him to return. It was insane how much he craved someone that was not even in his life. Not properly.

Eugene got out of bed, tired of tossing and turning. He headed downstairs and sat down on the couch, holding his knees and looking ahead him. The newspapers Merriell left there before leaving three years ago were back on their spot. After he found Merriell's box, he decided to return all of his belongings back to the place they were and force himself to live with them. While they had been far too much back in the day, now they were not enough. He wanted _him_.

He had been wanting him like crazy, lately. Maybe it was because he allowed himself to. Or maybe it was because he slowly got used to him and what he had was no longer enough. Sometimes, when he felt dreadfully alone, he wore some of his shirts. They had around the same size; rather skinny and not too tall. They fit them nicely and kept his scent during the time they had been stored in the closet. Eugene liked to brush his nose against the collar of the shirts and just breathe him in. Other times he put two drops of his cologne on his wrists and fell asleep with his hand right in front of his face over the pillow.

He thought and dreamt about him. And he still didn't have it.

If Mamaw noticed how he became far more fond of Merriell, she did not say anything about it. Eugene wanted to bring the subject up. Tell her that he wanted him to know that he was there. That he was... _waiting_. For them to meet. To see if he was everything he imagined he would be. To see if he could allow himself to feel everything he had been ignoring for so many years. It practically felt like he would never be fully satisfied or complete until he would see his face. Either to face disappointment or drown in happiness.

He wanted to bring the subject up and he didn't even know how to do it. Pronounce Merriell's name still seemed to be complicated. Like invoking an ancient presence that would take control of him. That's why he had been trying to write everything down for a couple of months now. Each night, before going to bed, he wrote a couple of lines. The beginning of letters that he would never end because he didn't know how. He asked how he was doing. Other times he begged him to come back home alive and well. Sometimes he dared to tell him how important he had been even across the ocean. Other times... Other times he simply let him know how much he thought about him.

But it didn't really matter what those letters said because he would never find the way to finish them or even less have the courage to send them. He would only ask Mamaw if he could send it when he would finish the first one.

And for sure it was taking more time than expected.

Tonight, the only difference between the night before was that he turned twenty-one. Technically, a year older than twenty-four hours ago, and still facing the same problem and being stuck at having the same complication.

How to put into words everything he already felt?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE: 
> 
> Robert Trout was a broadcast news reporter that worked for the CBS. You can easily find all the reports about Normandy landing on YouTube.  
> The landing on Omaha Beach was one of the bloodiest from all the Normandy Landings. And /yes/ it's the one that opens the film Saving Private Ryan.
> 
> TRANSLATION:
> 
> Je le dis à Maman: I'm telling mom.


	9. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was bitter and angry and disgusted. And the picture that he had been carrying around for almost a year was burning a hole on his heart. He doesn't fucking care about him. He had been gone for three years. Fighting a war for longer than two. And he couldn't fucking bother himself to send him anything.  
> Why? Merriell thought about him every single day. And his boy couldn't even pretend to fake some worry about him. What? He was well aware that he was complete garbage without even getting to see him? He was too good for him? Too good to even write him? Fuck him. 
> 
> OR 
> 
> It's 1945, the war is over and the Easy boys make a cameo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to die but in a good way. Semi proud of myself for getting to finish this one before the weekend. It's not super cool or anything but... Ah. Yeah. Kinda happy. And if I managed to create good opposites between Eugene and Snafu in this one, I'll be satisfied.  
> You know what's coming next ;;;;)
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains violence, but nothing you haven't already seen in the episode Okinawa from The Pacific.
> 
> Enjoy (or try to, tbh).

**JANUARY, 1945**

Eugene was exhausted. He knew he was going to fail plenty of his classes, but more and more wounded soldiers kept coming from pretty much everywhere, now. While they were out of danger (or, on the other hand, there was nothing left to do for them other than make them comfortable until the time would come), they needed plenty of help to recover. Eugene was tired of blood, guts and pus. But he was also tired of souls that had been ripped apart because of loss, anger and tragedy. He wanted to go to bed and sleep for years.

Either that or something beautiful. Or hopeful. Or... just a small reward. That would be... Eugene sighed. That would be far too good to be real.

And while salvation was not on the other side of the door, there was _someone_ beautiful.

Eugene stopped for a second, just to take a proper look. Polished looks, a strong jawline, and smooth hair slicked back, making it look dark and shiny. His clear eyes really stood out. Eugene couldn't help but think that was not a face you'd see so often. Just like a young Gary Cooper, something that would fit more in a movie than in a hospital with mutilated veterans.

“Aren't you a bit young to be a doctor?” the man asked. He couldn't be much older than Eugene. Maybe four or five years older.

Eugene blinked and cleared his throat. Who cares? It's just a face. _I have Merriell_ he thought and that only made him feel even worse. Because no, he didn't have him. And because... he shouldn't be thinking about him _like that_. What if he ever comes back and... he doesn't like him? It was quite obvious that Merriell enjoyed the company of men, as well. There were plenty of buttons that belonged to men in his “lovers' box”. That doesn't mean he will ever like him.

When he noticed he took far too much time to answer, he rushed to say: “I'm a volunteer.”

“Should I wait until a real one shows up?”

 _A real one?_ Eugene frowned a little bit and decided that perhaps looks were truly not everything. “If you want to end up with an infected wound, then maybe.” he replied, a little dry, leaving the folder over the table before he opened it.

The man began to undo his shirt and Eugene's fingers twitched. A blue discharge. He parted his lips and the man didn't look down at any moment. It was the first time he saw one (he was given responsibilities not that long ago) but Eugene knew what those meant. One of the doctors explained him that a blue charge was... _Nothing_. No honor or dishonor. More like a way to get rid of those who were unwanted by higher occupations. Plenty of times those tickets were given to black soldiers, because some couldn't stand the idea to fight a war along others that they saw as the enemy back home.

Other times, when it was not a matter of race, it was a matter of catching a soldier in a compromised situation with _another_ soldier. And while the blue discharge did not imply dishonor, to receive one quite outed you and made things far more complicated back home. No benefits from being a veteran, more trouble to find a job and yes, in a way, it was also a social stigma.

The man, Michael Sadler, looked at him and waited. There wasn't any hint of shame in his eyes. In fact, he seemed to be challenging him to say something. That while being injured, he was still pretty much willing to shut his mouth if he had to.

Eugene approached him and checked the wound on his shoulder. Clearly, he hasn't been shoot at. And the wound was truly not enough to send a soldier back home. Just give him a couple of stitches and a little bit of morphine and then return him back to his company.

“How did this happen, Mr Sadler?” Eugene couldn't help but ask.

“Mick is just fine.” he offered before he shrugged with his other shoulder. “Got stabbed.”

“By a Nazi?”

“Never stood that close to one, really.”

Eugene looked at his face from the corner of his eyes and frowned a little bit. “If there's something you'd like to report...” he began.

Mick snorted and shook his head. “There's nothing to report. They didn't want me there and I got the message quite fucking clearly, kid.”

Eugene tensed his jaw and dropped his hands for a second. “Well. I don't think it's fair.”

“Who the Hell are you to say if something is right or wrong?” he arched an eyebrow.

“No one. But _I_ wouldn't want to get one.” Eugene hoped that emphasis would help him understand that Eugene, in any other situation, could have ended up having the very same situation he was facing.

And perhaps the man did because he squinted a bit and tilted his head to the side. “It's not like you can help me, anyway.”

 _I can help anyone_ , Eugene thought, _I want to help you all while I still can_. Souls that were broken because of sadness or pushed to the very limit because of injustice. He wanted to help them and soothe them all. As foolish as that could sound, sometimes. It's what gave his life a true meaning. What made him happy and worthy.

“I can try.” Eugene promised. “If you tell me what happened, I can try to help you.”

“Doubt it.” he shook his head.

“Then... You can talk to me. Just to get it out of your chest.” Eugene could see that simple paper and the memory of being kicked out of the army was twisting and burning his very soul.

And perhaps Mick needed to talk to someone. Someone that would understand and take his side in this story: “I did not torture krauts or enjoyed killing them. I used the right weapons; never standing too close. Never touched a civilian. Tried to help them whenever I could and didn't steal anything they had left. For God's fucking sake, I did not look at the women, either. I did not lay a hand on anyone. And trust me, they sell you this fucking idea that only heroes survive wars. That's not how it goes.” he shook his head and truly looked like he needed a cigarette. Eugene didn't smoke, he couldn't offer one. “But you get caught kissing the wrong kind and you are fucking insane to them. I was sent to the hospital, to be eximined by a psychiatrist. A fucking _psychiatrist_.” he snorted. “Like there's something wrong with _my_ mind. What about the boys that kill others like rats? Or the ones that feel that those girls owe them as much as they want from them because they are fighting a war? That's not insane? To leave the person you are behind because, apparently, you are the good guy no matter what you fucking do? Because you are a proud American? That's fucking _bullshit_.”

“The world doesn't understand y—”

“That's the thing!” he seethed. “The _world_ doesn't understand. I understand who I am just fine. It's their problem, not mine. And I am still the one carrying that fucking paper around.” he sighed and continued. “That's how everything works, you know? We can stomach any sort of violence, accept war, and yet be unable to let others love whoever they fucking want to love. Or be in the only way they can be.”

Eugene didn't know how to answer that. He agreed with him. After shifting lightly, he tried to take him back to something that, perhaps, still made him happy. “Did you _love_ him?” he asked, carefully.

How helpful it was to speak to a stranger: one that was free of judgment or fear. “I was fucking crazy about him. Only reason why I woke up in the morning and dragged myself through that shit. Yeah, I loved him. Still do.”

“He was also given a blue ticket...?”

He denied once again. “I took _the blame_.” He gestured at his own shoulder. Eugene nodded and ended up changing the bandages. It was healing nicely. A flesh wound was the last of his problems. “We'll meet again. He's from Chicago. I'll wait him there. He asked me to.” he smiled, briefly. “Even if being with me will be like... being with a walking plague.”

Eugene looked at him then back at the paper. “Is this the only one?”

“What?”

“Is this the only blue ticket they gave you?”

“How many more am I supposed to have? It goes along with my medical record.”

“So it is.”

“I guess?”

“And you'd be far better without it, right?”

“ _Duh_.”

“Well. You know? I am in a bit of a hurry, today.” Eugene stepped back once he was done. “And I might have to leave in this very moment. So, if you excuse me...” he raised his eyebrows. Mick frowned, not following. Eugene pointed at the open folder with his eyes. With the blue discharge right there. “I'm going. I'll be back in five minutes.” with one last nod, he walked out the room: leaving him alone with that piece of paper that could ruin his life.

*** * ***

When he came back for the folder, the blue ticket and Mick were gone. Eugene knew that he would probably never see him again. But he hoped that he could, at least, resume his love story once the war would be over.

He felt a little bit more hopeful.

**FEBRUARY, 1945**

At some point he even thought about asking Lou to help him out. He has been trying to write a letter for more than six months. That was simply _ridiculous_.

He always ended up huffing and giving up, with ink on his fingers and his patience buried somewhere, away from him. This time he had been stupid enough to ask him if he found someone there. Like war was some sort of summer ball. But that man, Mick Sadler, he found love in the middle of the war. Who says that Merriell won't? There are soldiers _and_ nurses there. And he even heard that a few of them already got married as soon as they had five minutes of peace. If Merriell came back married or loving someone else, Eugene would feel like a _fool_.

And sad.

In fact, he would feel _devastated_.

He folded the letter and threw it inside of his suitcase. He only kept his typewriter and his unfinished letters there. He kept them all, and sometimes he read them, hoping it would be easier to finish one than start another brand new. He was simply unlucky.

Mamaw kept ignoring the issue of telling Merriell that he was there. And he even started to think that she was giving him the chance to decide. That she considered it was his decision to let him know. And maybe... Maybe he did everything wrong? Maybe he should have tried to tell him. Everything. From the very beginning. When he hated him because he burned him. When he tried to understand him. When he started to think about him as someone that should have. Just everything. But he couldn't go back in time.

He could only... hope that such thing could remain a secret. Maybe tell him, eventually, and let him know that he had been scared. And that even now, when he wanted to see him and smell him and be able to talk to him, he was still scared. And that such fear would only fade once he would be there with him.

So perhaps it was the comfort of Merriell not knowing that allowed to keep acting like a coward.

He rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair back, exhaling deeply. “Just come back already.”

**OKIWANA, APRIL 1945**

Everything was wet and the mud looked like shit. Maybe it _was_ shit. There wasn't a single person in this Hell hole that looked clean. Merriell was dying to get to see and smell someone clean. Someone that didn't have dirt under their nails and that didn't wear a sweated shirt or faded trousers. He wanted to see beauty and leave all of this bullshit behind. He almost felt tempted to pull his picture out of his pocket once again to take a look.

He ignored the other Marines as they continued to insult and threaten the civilians that walked with fear and their eyes focused on their feet, dragging their belongings and hoping to escape the war and its consequences. He looked at them but he didn't feel anything anymore. Should he? Tough luck. He's not here because he wants to be, either.

“Are these Japs prisoners?” he heard one of the new ones ask. He couldn't remember his name, but his girl's was Kathy. The asshole wouldn't stop bragging.

“We don't make prisoners.” Burgie explained.

The new ones flinch each time they hear a plane. Merriell snorted as Leyden comforted that Kathy boy.

“They are Okinawans.” Burgie continued.

“They look like Japs.” the other one answered.

There was a difference. Okinawans? Humans. Japs? The enemy, not humans. You had to draw the line somewhere. If don't, you'd become a fucking monster and feel like you can do anything to anyone. And if you don't get caught, then great. You'll be a son of a bitch for the rest of your life. Merriell wanted to keep some humanity with him, if he could. Gene would never manage to love a goddamn beast.

“Shut the fuck up, Kathy.” Merriell kept his eyes on the back of the boot's neck.

“My name is Peck. Tony Peck.”

Like he gives a _shit_ about his name.

“Hey, dickface. Lemme see that girl of yours once again. She's _hot_.” Leyden grinned. Merriell continued to walk right behind them, observing, _as always_.

“Thanks.”

“I need something to jack off to.” and the gesture, very obvious and very crude, followed. “Oh, Kathy!” he moaned. “Yes, harder, Kathy!”

Merriell chuckled and of course, the boot took it like a bitch: “Shelton has a picture of a girl too. Why don't you ask him?”

And that's when they all looked at each other and snorted. Burgie already turned his head, his eyes on Merriell as he took a long drag and threw the cigarette away. “What did you say?” he asked as he exhaled smoke and toxines.

The boy looked down and shrugged, like he didn't fucking imply he had to share his picture so others could masturbate to the sight of someone who was like a sister to him and his Eugene. Like he didn't fucking insult him in the worse way possible. “You've got a picture too.”

“Yeah, only difference is that I don't talk about a girl like she's my fucking _s_ _—_ ”

“Watch that mouth, there are kids around.” Romie hushed him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and keeping him from getting any closer to Peck, who was almost glued to Burgie's back. What a fucking coward. He gives him two fucking weeks, as much.

“Like they can fucking understand a word I say.” Merriell grumbled, shoving him. Romie flicked his ear exchange, grinning.

*** * ***

You knew Okinawa was destroying everybody when it managed to kill Romie's smile. He stayed in silence and didn't talk about the plans he had for when he would go back home. Every night, he said the very same: first, he would find a good job. Then, hopefully, fall in love and get married. Sometimes he said he wanted to have five children. Other times he said that, well, maybe three because he doubted he would make that much money. But girls were working now, and that was great because the more money, the better you live. That's just how it is.

Now he didn't say a fucking thing. Not even when Hamm (he will forget his name, eventually) said that they should be able to offer protection to the civilians. He blinked and looked at him. Leyden told his story of how he saw his fucking friend die when he was fifteen. Like that would help. Merriell decided to say something stupid. A joke. Just as useless.

Romie didn't even try to take a look at Peck's girl when he stole his picture. Merriell tried to whistle to get his attention. See what the fuck was going on inside of that thick head of his. But Burgie came back roaring orders and they since they barely had any ammunition left, they were asked to grab their rifles and follow him.

 _Fucking boot_.

And then it's the same old routine: you find a position and you don't shoot until they know where you are. Or until you know where they are. Your eyes are wide and you still don't see shit. You are so conscious of yourself that sounds like you breathing far louder than you are. Your heart right on your throat and temples and you kind of pray that your sweaty palms won't drop the rifle. If you do, then boy, you are _dead_.

Merriell barely heard Romie saying that they needed more men in the front. He only saw him quickly and silently moving to the top of the hill. And then silence once again until he heard _something_.

A baby.

Then women started to come down the hill, crying and whimpering, some of them holding their kids against their chest. They were praying perhaps. _Fuck_ , he truly couldn't understand them but it was basic compassion to be able to tell the fear they were feeling. They didn't walk very fast, perhaps exhausted, malnourished or they didn't even know where they were going. But they had to clear the path.

“Snafu, what do you see?” Burgie asked from the other side.

The fourth woman extended her hands forward, offering their baby. Wanting them to save the little kid from that fucking nightmare. Like they were not stuck there too. Like they had a way out. How would it be, for you to have to give your kid away, because you know it won't survive with you? Merriell noticed how something warm rolled down his cheek. And for a moment he thought he was bleeding.

 _No_. He was crying, because in that woman he saw his own mother. War aside, but still hoping someone could do something for her child. He swallowed thickly and he couldn't even talk. The woman kept begging and moving from one side to the other, where Romie was.

She was desperate and he was a good person. The man lowered his rifle and extended his right arm towards the woman, to take the baby. And God knows what he would do with a kid, later. But he did it, just to help and that was when Merriell, from his position, could see how the woman had explosives tied all over her waist.

And then she exploded, so did the baby and Romie fell on his back. Everybody crouched and the smell of blood and guts was fresh.

**NEW ORLEANS, MAY 1945**

It was in the air: the joy, the happiness, the _relief_.

President Truman first regretted that the previous one, Roosevelt, died before he could see the day of victory. People were anxious and for sure they cared far more about their fathers, sons, husbands and brothers than someone who was already dead, no matter how important he had been. The silence was bearing such great expectations. And then it was as simple as saying: “The forces of Germany have surrendered to the United Nations.”

Everybody started to scream and cheer. Eugene could hardly believe it. They were starting to see the end of this... bloody war.

Everybody was there, the doors of the houses were open, those who had a radio invited others into their homes so they could hear the good news. He was at the LeBlanc's house. Pip jumped and ran from his house to his aunt's and back. Adele didn't even seem to mind that Eugene was there. Even Mamaw was there, sitting down on a chair, tired but smiling. Lou kissed her and Eugene sat down on the arm of the chair and wrapped an arm around her. She patted his knee and nodded, as if saying: _We are getting there, Ange, we are getting there_.

But that was before Lou threw herself at him and hugged him. Eugene laughed while Mamaw scolded her. Her arms were strong. Her _soul_ was strong. Eugene couldn't help but think that things were finally going okay. That they deserved a little break after so much suffering. After losing so much.

Today was a day of victory. There were people dancing in the streets; drinking. Some crying, but it was not the desolation lived last summer. This... This had been the toughest year, as Mamaw said. With many wounded soldiers, with many broken families, with many spirits needing his help. And now, they got to see the spark of joy and hope. And Eugene could breathe better times. He felt pure anticipation and bliss. It was contagious and he couldn't stop smiling.

He couldn't stop smiling even if this was not _truly_ the end. He didn't have anyone fighting the European war. Sid came back from the Pacific last year. They had been exchanging letters and Eugene kept saying that he was too busy to visit Mobile. That as soon as he would have a moment... That he would go. The truth was that he still didn't know how to face his friend after accepting so much about himself.

But Sid was not the main of his worries. Merriell was still there. And it became obvious for everybody that those two wars had nothing in common when Truman added: “The victory won in the west must be won in the east.”

 _Soon_.

**OKINAWA, JUNE 1945**

This will never end. They will fucking die here and they will never make it home.

They've been more than sixty days in this bloody fucking island. And Merriell started to think that they should bomb it. Americans and Japs alike. Too fucking bad. Sink this island and let the world forget about this shit.

First Romie. Merriell had to ask everybody to see if he was alive or not. _Just barely_ , they told him. Yeah, but is he going to make it back home? Like they will ever give him a proper answer. If they didn't even know when the replacements will come, how the fuck will they know about a wounded soldier?

Then fucking Leyden and Merriell knew that if it wasn't for Burgie, he would have lost his goddamn mind. He reached a point in which he couldn't think, and at the same time, he couldn't stop. He was bitter and angry and disgusted. And the picture that he had been carrying around for almost a year was burning a hole on his heart. He doesn't fucking care about him. He had been gone for three years. Fighting a war for longer than two. And he couldn't fucking bother himself to send him anything.

Why? Merriell thought about him every single day. And his boy couldn't even pretend to fake some worry about him. What? He was well aware that he was complete garbage without even getting to see him? He was too good for him? Too good to even write him? Fuck him.

He was angry. And the reality was that he had plenty to be angry at. So allowed himself to enjoy the little consolation that brought him to see yet another Jap falling down, dead. _Yeah, take that you son of a bitch_. Other times he killed them and thought: _lucky you, motherfucker, lucky you_.

And when he thought he was fucking done with the stench of shit and death, the sweated and bloodied clothes, the rocks that weren't rocks but bones and decaying flesh, and just this fucking war in general... It started raining.

It rains, it fucking _pours_.

So he started yelling, mad. At no one at all. Just to get his frustration out while thinking: _I am not enough to be treated like a human being?_

When Burgie came over to shut him up, he noticed that both Hamm and Peck were bleeding on the ground.

_What...?_

*** * ***

He doesn't know where he's looking at. He can't see anymore. He had been standing there for... how long? He doesn't know. The cigarette kept burning and he couldn't escape his mind. All the things he's seen... And they thought he was fucked up before? Ah, they will love him if he comes back: empty and disgusting.

Merriell simply stood there until he heard yet _another_ baby. The last one practically killed Romie. He turned his head and looked at the hut; the baby kept crying. He simply knew that if he walked inside of that house, he'd never make it back. He would blow his brains out. There's as much as he can take, and he reached his fucking limit.

He sat down and let the baby cry. Let it torment him.

 _Look at what you've become, you piece of garbage. You can't even help a kid? What kind of scum are you? You still think there's a happy ending? That there's life after this? Mamaw? She's fucking dead. Lulu? She probably married rich and left. Eugene? Ah, he'll wait until make it back to spit at your face and remind you that no, he didn't have to do shit for you. Just die already, you have nothing to live for. Die. Just die already. Come on_.

He just let it torment him until Burgie's hand forced him to start walking once again.

*** * ***

“No, this one is a _different_ bomb.” Merriell heard. A bomb that could destroy a whole city in just one second and kill as many Japs as possible. He was way slower. One bullet for each, if he was lucky. So, if they could kill so many with those wonderful bombs, then what are they doing here, with rifles and stinky uniforms? What the fuck are they doing here?

 _Doesn't matter_ , his mind told him, _today is a sunny day. You'll get to drink soda and eat something that looks edible, tonight. Even watch a movie. Who the fuck cares anymore?_

“Hey, Burgie” he said after been silent for _days_ , ever since that terrible night when only his words got two men killed. “Wanna learn how to play Bourrée tonight? I'm sure I can get us cards somewhere.” Such an empty thing to say after the carnage and the lack of humanity. _Yeah, you sick fuck, pretend to be human, see how that works for you_.

**NEW ORLEANS, AUGUST 1945**

There were Vs and Js all over New Orleans. _Victory over Japan_. There had been music and drinks ever since it was announced that this was _finally_ over. Not partially. No last battles to be fought and no more soldiers that could lose their lives while facing the enemy. It was victory day and hopefully, they would never see war ever again. Nor will future generations.

Eugene shook his head as Lou kissed yet another sailor before the boy left, cheering and raising his bottle, off to find another girl to kiss. She chuckled and shrugged a little bit: “What? I only kiss the really cute ones!” God forbid she had a little fun after so much suffering. And those kisses were far from being romantic or lustful. Perhaps some were taking their chances to kiss as many as possible, but she was doing exactly the same. It was time for celebration. And it was only that: the happiness of war being over. The rush, the happiness translated into quick and happy kisses.

“You shouldn't.” Perhaps he learned to accept far more than he ever expected to. But that didn't mean he wasn't a little old-fashioned, still. “You wasted your first kisses for nothing.”

Lou rolled her eyes and wrapped her arm around his. “Eugene, I have to tell you somethin'.” she grinned a little bit. “These are truly not my first kisses.”

Eugene frowned, a little confused. “No?”

“Of course not!” she shrugged. “A girl needs to have some fun, sometimes. Nothin' important, though.” Who would care about three kisses behind the store she worked at? For sure she didn't. Nor did the boy. Once again, those kisses were not about love either, more the comfort of people trying to deal with sadness and mourning and keeping themselves from dwelling any further. Lou wanted to fall in love. And she would. That doesn't mean she couldn't get some practice in the kissing department.

“I thought you... I mean, I thought... like me...” Now Eugene felt a little devastated. He was three years older than Lou. And she already kissed someone. And she was eighteen. And he was twenty-one, soon to be twenty-two. Maybe he felt a little self-conscious now. Perhaps he was even _blushing_.

“You've never kissed anyone?” she raised her eyebrow, still smiling.

 _Yeah, when?_ When he had been unable to accept he was attracted to men during his teenage years? Or when he came here to find he had something like a soulmate? When was he meant to start kissing? He'd love to know. “ _Hush_.” he mumbled.

“Merry is goin' to love that.” she chuckled as soon as he pushed her.

This time Eugene did not correct her or tried to make her understand that his relationship with Merriell might not take that direction.

He kind of hoped it would.

*** * ***

They thanked him for everything he did during the war and they promised to hire him once he would get his degree. But now that the nurses and doctors returned from the war, Eugene would need a titulation to have a position where he had been working for two years.

That's alright. It was getting a little bit too much. He didn't do all that great this last year and failed some of his classes. Eugene knew that his parents would send him money to help him support himself. And... And if Merriell came back, Eugene assumed they could always split bills and... _everything_. If he still wants him to stay at his house, of course. If not, Lou told him that she was willing to share a flat with him. She was willing to do anything to get out of her house.

“If not, Phyllis told me that I can always move in with her.” she explained him as they took a walk. New Orleans already looked different without the silent burden of the war. Lou said that he should wait and see Mardi Grass; the city _glows_. After that, he'll never want to leave. Eugene had to explain her that they _did_ celebrate Mardi Grass in Mobile. He explained briefly how it was and she only answered _bland_.

“Are you _that_ desperate?” Eugene joked. While Phyllis used to make him highly uncomfortable, now it was more like having a friend you simply loved to annoy.

“Sure am!” Lou sighed. “But I don't want to _intrude_.”

“How so?”

“Well, she lives _with_ Judith, sort of.” she raised her eyebrows. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...” so she knew that, as well? Alright, perhaps she was a little more perceptive than he gave her credit for. “I know.” he finally said.

“What I have to do is find a lovely boy I can call mine.” Lou explained, hopeful and smiling. “One that will blush when I kiss him and will hide his face on my neck when I call him beautiful. That's what I want.” she looked at him. “We'll go dancin'. Get married. Buy a house. Have children.”

“You are still young, Lou. You have plenty of time for that.” he reminded her.

“I have no rush to fall in love.” if she didn't force herself to do so during the war, then for sure she won't do it now. “I just want to get out of my house. And livin' with Mamaw was far too tough! She always wakes up so early!” she whined a little, making Eugene laugh and shake his head.

“Louise!”

The girl raised her eyebrows and turned around. Eugene tilted his head to be able to see who was calling her. There were about five or six soldiers there. Eugene was unable to recognize any of them.

“Who calls?” she asked just as clueless as he was.

“We are just delivery boys.” one of them spoke: short with tanned skin.

Lou released Eugene's arm and crossed her own, frowning. “You sure don't look like it.”

“You sure you didn't kiss these as well?” Eugene whispered on her ear before she pushed him away with her elbow.

“Don't be so bitter.” she hushed him with a smile. “What's the package, boys?”

“And now is moment for the prize!” the other boy was slightly taller than the one that spoke before. Eugene considered that he had quite the voice for the radio. They began to tap each other on the shoulders and some of them even on the thighs, to give the moment a drum roll and more intensity. “Ladies and gentlemen, straight from Hell, survivor of Camp Toccoa, savior of Bastogne... Eugene Roe!”

From behind those boys emerged Eugene Roe, who smiled a little bit and looked down. It was clear this had _not_ been his idea. Perhaps he was far more discrete than this whole show delivered in the middle of the street. The soldiers ( _paratroopers_ ) clapped and cheered.

Eugene was still a little puzzled, but he smiled, far more surprised than pleased. He saw the boy only once in the photo he found in Merriell's bedroom. He turned his head to look at Lou. She was biting her lower lip and trying to fight the tears but losing.

“Oh, my God.” she gasped and closed her eyes. “Oh, my God, oh, my God.” she whimpered over and over again before she started to run. And the miracle was that she crossed the street without even looking and not getting hit by a car.

Eugene scolded her but it didn't make it over the gasps and warnings of the boys. Lou ignored them all and jumped on her cousin. Roe caught her in time and she hugged him. From across the street, it looked like she could strangle him with such a tight hug. Eugene barely remembered Lou's spirit shinning so bright and so hopeful. Her cousin tried to soothe her by rubbing her back and kissing her temple. Lou cried and cried on his shoulder. It was pure happiness.

When Eugene could cross the street (he was truly not testing his luck), Lou had her hands on her cousin's shoulders, looking at him, like she truly didn't believe he was finally there. The boys soothed their excitement and some of them introduced themselves to Eugene, shaking his hand. He had a bit of a mess of names in his head. He caught the name of radio-man: Luz, Tab and then he blinked when he heard _Babe_ but didn't dare to ask if he got that right. He failed to catch any other name.

“I'm sorry about uncle Nic—” he heard his cousin say before Lou shook her head, quick and effusive. She was trying to clean her cheeks, but she was still crying. So it was rather useless.

“You are back. That's what truly matters!” she wanted to focus on good things. “You've seen your Maman, already?”

Roe nodded: “Just now.”

“There was no way we would leave before seeing Doc's family. We know everybody by name.” Luz said and Eugene thought that maybe it was not because Lou's cousin, Roe, shared plenty of things but maybe because they just loved to pry.

“I feel famous now.” Lou chuckled a bit.

“Yeah, well! You look nothing like your picture. You were a child there! How old are you, now?” the question was so casual but Roe visibly stepped in between the two of them.

“I didn't want them to come, but they just wanted to see New Orleans' nightlife before going home.”

Lou grinned, very wide, like she had been expecting to have the perfect excuse she was given in that very moment: “Let's go celebrate!”

*** * ***

There was Liebgott, who was skinny and snarky. Then there was Tab, handsome and very fond of drinking. Perconte, the shortest one who seemed delighted to still be alive. Luz, who talked an awful lot with at least twenty different voices and finally Babe. Whose name was not Babe but that no one called him anything else, anymore. From Philly.

“What are you doin' here, if you are from Philly?” Lou asked with no malice, but not understanding why he would delay the meeting his family to see New Orleans.

The boy smiled a little bit and shrugged. For Eugene that (and the concerned look Roe gave his cousin) was more than enough. Then Lou frowned a little bit and nodded. “Okay.” she smiled and nodded once again. “Cool. Now show me the pictures.” she changed the subjected before anyone could tell what really happened in that moment.

Eugene leaned over Lou's chair to take a look. The pictures had been taken during the years he had been away: some taken in Camp Toccoa, others in England and then the ones taken during the war. In some there were civilians (mostly women, children and old men) and in others there were Nazi flags. Lou took the last picture taken, to make sure she would not ask about someone who didn't make it back home.

“Who is this?” she pointed at a man with dark hair and blue eyes.

“That's Webster.” Babe was the one who answered. He had been visibly trying to get Lou's sympathy ever since they've made it to the bar.

“Oh, _wow_.” she mumbled, under her breath.

“ _Wow_? Yeah, listen to him for five minutes see if you still like him.” Luz seemed to be absolutely insulted by that. “Liebgott!” he called. “Hey, Liebgott! She says Webster is _wow_!”

Liebgott snorted, really loud, from the other side of the table. “To die for, really.”

“He's annoying?” Lou asked.

“ _Tremendously_.”

“I can deal with annoying if he's handsome.” she teased. “Is he tall?”

“I thought you told me you'd never be interested in a paratrooper? That you couldn't marry a boy who was foolish enough to jump out of a plane?” Eugene reminded her, recalling the first conversation he ever had with her.

“Ah! True!” she sighed and shook her head. She was booed by pretty much everybody in that table.

Eugene smiled until he felt a hand over his shoulder. Eugene turned his head to the left.

It was Tab: “Where did you serve?”

Eugene was now facing the question that kept haunting him when the war started. Would they think he was a coward? A wealthy boy that avoided responsibilities?

“I didn't.” he replied. The other man stayed in silence, just if he wanted to explain himself. “I tried to join the Marines but I was rejected. I have a heart... condition.” A noisy heart. That's what he had.

Tab simply nodded and carried on with the conversation, like that was _truly_ enough. “You work, then?”

“I was. At the hospital.”

“Must be an Eugene thing to become a doctor, huh?” he grinned.

Eugene smiled and felt his cheeks tingle and turn warm for a second. “Yeah, must be.”

*** * ***

Lou asked Babe to dance with her even if he kept saying that he was not good at dancing. That he would step on her toes and that she would be sick and tired of him in no time. She insisted and eventually, he agreed. Eugene could tell that dancing was the excuse to get to know him a little better. By that time, the boys were trying to either get very drunk or get the attention of the ladies. So, it was only Roe and himself left at the table.

Roe didn't seem to be a very extroverted person, but it was him who started the conversation: “My cousin told me everythin' about you.”

“Mostly the good things, I hope.” Eugene smiled, slightly.

“She told me how you helped her when she lost her fingers.”

Eugene nodded, recalling that moment. It had been just as important for him, in a completelly different way: “I wanted to help her.”

“You did.” he nodded. “They told you about our _grand-mère_ , right?”

“Yes. Constance.” That woman seemed to be in everybody's memory, no matter if they got to meet her or not.

“I thought about her a lot durin' the war.” Roe seemed to be comfortable enough to speak to him. “But what she had, I don't have it.” and perhaps, now there was no bitterness or sadness. Not anymore that he didn't have to be able to heal a dying man. “I met a woman in Bastogne. A _nurse_. Her touch... She touched them and they found peace. But she didn't see it as a _gift_.”

Eugene could relate to that feeling. The burden of having something others needed: have to be there for them, no matter what and no matter when. Always ready to give as much as you had. No selfishness or cruelty allowed. “I understand that.”

Then, the silence between them stretched before Roe continued: “What I'm tryin' to say...” he moved a bit on his chair and crossed his arms over the table. “Is that it takes a lot of courage and strength to constantly have to comfort and heal people who are at their worst and ask for nothin' exchange. And know that once they'll improve they might no need you anymore.” Roe denied. “I can't do it anymore. I don't ever want to have to save another man's life.”

And while Eugene felt flattered by his words and felt like he managed to reconcile himself about that fear of judgment for not fighting a war, a doubt came to his head: Would he become nothing to Merriell once his soul would be healed?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE: 
> 
> "A blue discharge (also known as a "blue ticket") was a form of administrative military discharge formerly issued by the United States beginning in 1916. It was neither honorable nor dishonorable. The blue ticket became the discharge of choice for commanders seeking to remove homosexual service members from the ranks. They were also issued disproportionately to African Americans. [...] The United States military had a long-standing policy that service members found to be homosexual or to have engaged in homosexual conduct were to be court-martialed for sodomy, imprisoned and dishonorably discharged. However, with the mobilization of troops following the United States' entry into World War II, it became impractical to convene court-martial boards of commissioned officers and some commanders began issuing administrative discharges instead. " Source: Wikipedia  
> Bourré: a betting card game played and originated in Louisiana.  
> Mardi Gras is also celebrated in Mobile and I didn't know that, tbh.


	10. Communion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was no one else in that room. Just the two of them. He couldn't see anything or anyone else. 
> 
> OR 
> 
> It's finally happening. But Merry is a dumbass and Eugene is not any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took us plenty of time to get here but... We made it, kids!!
> 
> So, very quickly, I'm going to return to the 5,000 words or so per chapter. There's no need to summarize anything anymore and really... I think it works best for both of us to not post such long chapters! And now that we also reached this point, I want to keep posting weekly, so I'll have time to write other things (one shots or short things, I keep in mind the vampire story!) or the prompts you might send me to my blog (persipneiwrites.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and your comments!! I hope I won't let you down with this! If not, I'll improve! :)

**FEBRUARY, 1946**

He had been dying to see people who were clean and now he was terrified he might be _too dirty_.

Merriell got rid of the mud and the stench. He cleaned his nails until there was no trace of blood under them. He had a nice haircut and he even wore a clean and ironed uniform. Maybe this was the best he ever looked in his life and he still felt _disgusting_. Like he was a man made out of dirt and guts. He looked at himself in the mirror and he no longer saw a human being. He saw something else. Something that couldn't possibly be described because it shouldn't even _exist_.

His reflection and the idea of being seen by the one he had been wanting to meet ever since he was told about him made him throw up. Merriell had to wet the back of his neck and force himself to calm down before he joined Burgie once again.

He also had a picture. They all had pictures. Of course he was not the only one. The difference was that they were written by the ones they loved. Merriell got absolutely nothing from Eugene. And he doubted he would get much more when he would arrive to New Orleans.

“She'll be there.” Merriell said as he took a seat in front of it, placing a cigarette between his lips. “If she knows what's good for 'er, she'll be there.” He didn't remember Florence all that well. While Burgie was trying to charm the girl, Merriell had been far too busy gambling and playing cards. Now he had some money saved. What the Hell is he going to do with it, now? At first he thought about buying Eugene something nice. Who knows. Maybe the kid smokes. A fancy pipe. Or even a tie. Those are nice things to give as presents, right?

Now he didn't want to buy him anything at all. He kept the money and was bringing the golden and bloodied teeth with him, just to dare him: _call me a fucking monster, I am giving you the perfect excuse_.

He stopped himself from thinking about it, feeling nauseous and dizzy once again. Merriell leaned in, slightly, and could see the face of a beautiful girl. She was blonde, he recalled. Slim, with very long legs. Taller than Burgie. Yeah, that's what he remembered about Florence: tall and beautiful.

“You are good man.” Merriell lit his cigarette and took a long drag. Perhaps that was the biggest flattery he was capable of. But if someone deserved it, then it was Burgie. He wouldn't have made it home without him. The difference between them was brutal: while they came from the very same place and witnessed the same shit, he couldn't see Burgie in the way he saw himself. He was a noble man. Merriell had never been one of those. Not even before the war. “Girls love to _marry_ good men.”

“Thought they loved bad boys.” he joked a little bit before folding the picture and returning it back to his pocket.

“They sure do.” Merriell explained. “But they have to be very foolish to marry a son of a bitch and think they can change 'im.” There was pure self-hatred in those words. Who the fuck would want to spend their whole life with him?

Burgie snorted and nodded before he sipped his drink. Merriell continued to smoke: not eating. Not even drinking. He would rather have the weight of his money on his pocket.

“You lost your picture?” Burgie asked.

“ _Nuh-uh_.”

“You are not so fond of it, anymore?”

Merriell didn't answer. He chewed the nail of his thumb while holding the cigarette with two fingers. He looked through the window and decided that he was a fucking coward. During these last six months of doing nothing other than cleaning a mess and getting drunk in China, he had been unable to look at the picture Lou sent him. He was fucking _terrified_.

And then, after a small silence that Merriell barely noticed, Burgie mumbled: “It's not her.”

“Uh?” he frowned and turned his head once again to look at him.

Burgie placed one hand over the table, turning his back towards the other passengers and focusing his attention on Merriell. Then he repeated: “It's not her.” he pointed at his shirt; at his pocket; at his heart. There he kept the fucking picture. “It's _him_.”

Meaning: _it's not her the one you were focusing on, it was him. It's not her the one you were thinking about, it's him. It's not her the one you love, it's him. And it's not her the one you are scared of, it's him._

Merriell exhaled the smoke while his heart squeezed pure acid and poison into his veins. He will get sick because of this bullshit. He will die two days after making it back home, just fucking _wait_. He took another drag, in hopes the smoke would soothe and kill his nerves. “ _Yes_.”

His confirmation was almost unnecessary: Burgie already knew, anyway. So he nodded and continued: “What happened?”

“Nothin' happened.”

“ _Corporal_.”

Fuck him, using dirty tricks to get whatever he wanted. _Noble man?_ He corrected himself, he was just another poor bastard that survived the war. “He doesn't give a fuck about me.”

“How do you know?”

“He didn't write to me.” it surprised him how bitter he sounded.

“Did you write to him?”

“Oh, now I have to fight a war _and_ write fuckin' letters?”

“I fought a war and wrote letters and I didn't _die_ , Snafu.”

“Maybe you are just a pu—”

“You really don't want to go there with me.”

 _Maybe fucking not_. Merriell frowned and continued to smoke before he added: “I don't even _know_ him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never saw 'im in my life.”

The more he spoke, the more confused Burgie seemed to be. The man looked around and lowered his voice before he asked: “So you two are a _thing_ and never saw each other? Like pen pals?”

“We can't be pen pals if he doesn't fuckin' write to me, huh?” Burgie scolded him with a simple look, so Merriell _had_ to continue. “Like... mhm...” that is going to sound so fucking stupid. “Soulmates.” Burgie snorted a little and Merriell wanted to kill him. “ _Shut up_.”

“Are you telling me _you_ have a soulmate?”

“What do you mean, _me_?” He recalled how Gracie said _I know your kind_ , years ago. Sounded just as accusative.

“You don't look like the _romantic_ kind, to me.”

“I'm not.” Merriell grumbled.

“How do you know he is your soulmate?”

“My Mamaw told me. She might be terrible, but she doesn't lie for sure.” Not only that, Mamaw despised liars. Merriell learned that the hardest way. “She said he'd save my soul.” and now that sounded stupid. He was beyond salvation. He is going to rot and die. That would be just _fine_.

“And he is in New Orleans?”

“...Yeah, probably.” Merriell didn't know what would be worse: arrive there and have to face the boy that ignored him during a whole fucking war or arrive home to see he already left because he couldn't bother himself to wait until he would come back.

“Lucky you, Snaf. Lucky you.” he smiled, small but warm.

And that made him happy, but also confused him tremendously: “Lucky? _How_?”

“You have someone _just_ for you. How is that not being a lucky bastard?” No one could tell for sure that Florence would move to Texas just for him.

“Don't feel like it.” Merriell denied. His boy learned how to fucking hate him without him being there. As soon as he gets to see the kind of scum that he was, he will go back to Mobile running.

“You are pretty stupid, then.”

 _Yeah, probably_. Merriell snorted before Burgie slipped his fingers inside of his chest pocket and pulled the small picture out. Merriell almost felt breathless and his heart skipped a beat, flinching and trying to get the picture back. Burgie slapped his hand away, taking a proper look. “What's his name?”

“... _Eugene_.” sounds like a prayer. Sounds like _salvation_.

*** * ***

“That's my little brother.” Burgie whispered with a tenderness that Merriell was not used to. The kid had to be ten or twelve, as much. Six or eight when Burgie left.

Merriell smiled a little bit when Burgie stood up and grabbed his sea bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He stopped and rested a hand over Merriell's seat. “Write to me.” it sounded a bit like an order.

“Invite me to your wedding.” Merriell teased. Florence was not there, yet. But she would be. She had to be. She had to get there, because if there were men out there that deserved nice stuff, then those men acted and spoke like Burgie.

“She said she wanted a summer wedding. So start saving to buy us something nice.” he joked back. Burgie extended a hand.

Merriell stood up and hesitate for a second. That was when Burgie _understood_ what he was trying to do. He wrapped both of his arms around Merriell and hugged him, tightly. Merriell inhaled, deep, and closed his eyes. He felt a little calmer when Burgie rubbed his back and patted it. Who would have told him he would end up becoming friends with a decent human being? He wished he could eat him alive and keep his kindness and all of his graceful traits. Be a bit more like him and less like himself. Eugene would love someone like Burgie. He would fall for him in less than a week.

“You'll be fine, Snaf.” Burgie told him. “You'll be just fine.”

Merriell thought that he tended to be right, but this time it felt like suicide mission.

*** * ***

He arrived to New Orleans past midnight.

Merriell called Lulu that morning. She promised that she would be there, no matter the hour. He was fucking nervous to see _her_. What would she say? Would she be able to tell he was no longer the same? Would she be disgusted? Would she... _Fuck_. If she could barely face Lulu, how he was even meant to face Mamaw and Eugene?

He took a deep breath and looked from one side to the other. The station was crowded, this time. There were other Marines and sailors, all of them with their sea bags, ready to make it home. Drink and eat with their families or friends and sleep like nothing ever happened. Like war hasn't been nothing but a terrible dream.

But first... He was home. _Ain't nobody going home_. How many times did he say that? How many times other Marines looked at him like he pulled the knife out to kill their only hope? He had been bitching and dwelling on the sadness and now he was _home_. With all of his limbs and features, walking all by himself and without even getting sick once for almost four fucking years. He was far too lucky. Then why feel so _unfortunate_? Perhaps that was something he carried in his blood.

Looking around and hardly believing that he was _finally_ there, he found her among the people. Lulu bit her lower lip as she smiled. Her eyes looked bright and Merriell didn't know what to do for a second. He was walking before he could really think about a solution. She met him halfway and hugged him, just as tight Burgie did. Merriell buried his face on the crook of her neck. She was clean from the war. He breathed her in and she was _clean_. Perhaps she suffered the consequences, but she never got to see that Hell. She was clean and Merriell wanted to steal some of that innocence. If he could have only stolen Burgie's nobility and Lou's light, Eugene would have loved him until the very last of his days.

“Welcome back, Merry.” he could almost _hear_ her smile. He hugged her even closer to his chest and she felt her fingers caressing his back and his scalp. Eight and then two that had been ruthlessly severed by a machine. Merriell sniffed and he was glad that she didn't comment the fact that the hug was lasting a bit too much.

He managed to not cry. That, alone, was a victory.

Merriell leaned back and held her elbows with his hands, squeezing warmly. “Lemme take a look at you, girl.”

Lou chuckled and shrugged a little bit as he inspected her. It was impossible to forget the way Merriell looked at, always so intensely with those big eyes that he had. “Agein' gracefully, huh?”

“Gracefully and losin' bits, I see.” he teased, taking her wrist and inspecting her right hand. Merriell brushed his thumb over the amputated fingers and Lou furrowed her nose, blushing a little bit, ashamed. “ _Shhh_.” he shook his head. Two fingers. What's that? It's fucking nothing. “Now, get me home. I'm starvin'.”

In many ways.

*** * ***

She drove and spoke about Eugene. And he didn't know what was more impressive. She was not a child anymore. She could fucking _drive_. She wore heels and lipstick and she could drive. Merriell felt like he missed far too much. He would have wanted to teach her himself. But... But she said that Eugene was the one who showed her. And that he had been there the whole time. For her, for Mamaw, for everybody. _Yeah, everybody except me_ , he couldn't help but think.

And then she spoke about him and he was also envious. Why did she get to be by his side for four years and he had to go to through that bullshit? Didn't he deserve to be with his soulmate of some sort? Didn't he deserve some fucking happiness? Someone to be there for him?

Merriell felt bitter and anxious. She even had to hold his hand and pull him out of the car and into the little pirogue. There she kept talking while she rowed. His mind was not there. And once again she had to grab his hand so he would step on the porch of Mamaw's hut.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

Lou squeezed his hand and smiled at him. Merriell wanted to push her away, now. Tell her that she had no reason to smile. That this was not going to end well. That this was stupid and that it would probably fucking kill him. He can surive a war, but can he survive rejection? Of course not!

She blinked and her smile fell, knowing he was about to do something stupid. “Merry, _no_.”

*** * ***

Mamaw was a bad liar, as well.

After they had dinner, she told him that she wanted to speak to him. And so she did, but about pointless things she already knew. Mostly about his family; his parents and his friends. She even asked about Sid and when he planned on visiting. Eugene's answers were not conclusive and he kept frowning as she wouldn't let him go home.

And then, well. It was obvious. She wanted him to be there because he was _meant_ to be there. Because that first meeting had to be supervised by an _adult_ , or something.

Eugene started to feel nervous and his stomach hurt. He breathed heavily, feeling his palms get moist and his fingers tremble. Mamaw asked him if he wanted some tea or _rum_. Eugene denied both offers. He could barely swallow his own saliva.

And then, he could _feel_ him before he saw him.

A spirit that was vibrating: scared and angry at the very same time. Eugene felt a tingling sensation over his fingertips and he had to fist his hands to keep them from trembling. His knees bounced under the table until he couldn't take it anymore and stood up. He tried as hard as possible to just _keep breathing_.

The door opened and his bones were suddenly red-hot iron. His flesh was melting and barely holding up anymore. Eugene parted his lips and his eyes were curious and eager: he looked at all of his features. At his eyes, that were big and green, at his nose that was straight and delicate. His lips, his chin and his ears. He could barely see his hair. The uniform helped him to look at little broader and a little taller perhaps.

He rested a hand over Mamaw's shoulder to not lose balance. But he did so blindly. There was no one else in that room. Just the _two_ of them. He couldn't see anything or anyone else.

Merriell felt delirious. For a moment he was convinced he was still in Okinawa, agonizing and swallowing mud, and that his mind was giving him one last vision before dying. Mamaw's hut was as dark as he remembered it, with just a dim light provided by a couple of candles. Eugene's shadow was tall and slim over the floor. It could almost touch his boots. His cheeks looked smooth and warm. His eyes looked at him, like he was trying to understand his existence. _What, you didn't expect me to come back?_ he wanted to ask.

The veteran gave Lou his sea bag. She took it and called his name, as a warning. A warning that he ignored. Then his stupid little hat. Why did they even wear that bullshit? Merriell felt like he was wearing a costume. Like he should be wearing the uniform he was not allowed to take off for years; soaked in blood and mud. That would give him a proper idea of who he was. See if he can stomach that.

When Merriell stepped forward towards him, Eugene licked his lips and let his hands fall by his sides once again. Merriell placed his own on Mamaw's shoulder. Not the one Eugene touched. He bowed a bit and pressed a kiss against her cheek. The woman patted his hand, squeezing it briefly. “ _Sois sage_ , Merry.”

Another warning that he ignored.

Now that Merriell was closer, Eugene could see far more of him. And not only small details of his face, but his very soul. It was _devastating_. It had been shattered and then glued back together artlessly. Without any skill and not trying to pretend that it healed. Just like a wound that scarred and became a constant reminder of how helpless he had been. Merriell's spirit was not delicate. It was strong. Covered in rust and heavy. There was a metallic taste under his tongue. It was even harder to breathe. He would need so much help. He suffered so much and Eugene felt _guilty_. He opened his mouth and was unable to say anything. He closed it once again.

Eugene pressed his lips and Merriell's heart was on his throat. What? He was not good enough? That's pity that he sees in his eyes? Was he the good deed he needed to solve before going back home? A charity case? He survived a war. He did the unimaginable to go back home. And everything just to get to see him. And that's it? Just... Just a look and thinking: too bad you got tremendously screwed? Merriell wanted to cry. Perhaps beg him to love him. Hold him. Touch him. Whatever he would give him, no matter how small, he would treasure it.

Eugene turned his head slightly to look at Lou, and in that moment, the soft light made his hair look _red_. He had been right. All these years, he had been right. His boy had been crowned with auburn hair. Where are his judgmental eyes?

Before Merriell could help himself, entranced, he extended his hand forward. His finger and his thumb tested the texture of Eugene's hair. It was so soft. So delicate. Merriell wanted to step even closer, kiss his temple. Have the excuse to smell his hair. Hug him. Let him comfort him.

But Eugene reacted poorly to that touch. He spent four long years getting used to Merriell. He lived in his house. Slept on his bed. Wore his clothes. And none of those could even be compared to how it felt to be touched by him. His stomach was set in flames and he heard himself gasp before he stepped back, surprised by both of their reactions.

And it was frustrating to see how something he had no control over could create such a big misunderstanding. Eugene's surprise was seen as utter disgust by Merriell. _Of course_. He moved his hand away, quick and sudden, like it was Eugene who burned him. He felt ashamed of himself. Why would anyone want to be touched with those disgusting hands of his? Who would want to breathe the same fucking air as someone who had become a complete beast?

 _This is still the same boy that decided that you weren't good enough to even deserve a letter, what did you expect?_ his mind kept torturing him. Alright, then. He will give him plenty of reasons to hate him. To truly be disgusted by what he was.

Mamaw's hands were on his arms as she forced Merriell to take a seat.

Ever since he had been touched, Eugene's heart was beating hard against his chest. He was scared it might stop at any moment. He swallowed the anxious and overly warm feeling. He was trembling and he had to sit down, as well, since he could have fallen at any moment. How could someone you barely knew have so much power over you? He thought he could have faced this differently: far more confident. Or at least being able to speak. And yet, there he was, unable to look away from the other boy. _Silent_.

“It's Eugene.” Lou was finally back in their world. They were in New Orleans. In Mamaw's hut. The world outside their own bodies and wrong perceptions returned to them. “Eugene Sledge. He's from Mobile, Alabama.” she explained with a smile as she left the sea bag aside.

Merriell licked his lips and looked at him once again. The boy was looking at Lulu. His profile was fucking _beautiful_. He had to remind himself how he flinched away from his touch. _You don't deserve to touch someone that beautiful. You are fucking scum_.

Eugene was grateful that Lou managed to say something so simple. His tongue was dry and he was not even sure about such a basic information about himself anymore. Little Eugene knew that she confirmed Eugene's name years ago, when Merriell found out through Sid's letter.

Merriell lit up a cigarette, either ignoring Lou or simply acknowledging the information in silence. So Mobile was in Alabama. What came to his head were fancy summer balls and sweet iced tea. He sure looked like the kind; a smiling doll. No doubt why he was not the one for Merriell.

“Did you bring pictures?” Lou tried again, visibly hoping to establish a bland and harmless ground for them to start talking properly.

Merriell exhaled a cloud of smoke and Eugene waved his hand, so it wouldn't get inside of his lungs. He doesn't smoke either? Oh, then that's great. He will even hate the way he smells. It wasn't that at all, but Merriell was far too blinded by his own inadequacy that couldn't really understand what was going on inside of Eugene's head.

Before he could say anything, Mamaw made him to take a spoon with his right hand. He moved his cigarette to the left and moved his eyes back to Lulu. “Ain't got no pictures. It was war, girl, not summer camp.”

Eugene licked his lips and looked at Merriell. His voice... He could even feel it over his skin, giving him goosebumps. It made the experience of him far too real. He was there, and they weren't talking. Why? Why weren't they talking? Or introduced each other properly? What was going on? Why wasn't he in control of the situation? He practiced what to say and how to smile when he would arrive and now, he ruined everything by being a coward.

Merriell ate anxiously. Like anyone would come at any moment and take the bowl from under his chin. And he did so while also smoking compulsively. So many things about him had been modified by the war. And those six months of _peace_ did not help much. The pain melted under his skin and mixed with his blood. Now it's in him, until the very end. He would have to live with that poison.

“That's disgusting, Merry.” Lou was the one that dared to say what they were all thinking, probably. Merriell was fucking sure Eugene, right by his side, with his wonderful scent (what is it? He couldn't tell, it's been far too long since he smelled something like that) and his perfect posture, would feel mortified just to be around someone who ate like an animal.

But he wasn't. Eugene looked at him and understood plenty. The cigarettes to soothe his nerves; the food must be digested fast to keep moving.

“You should go back home, Louloute.” Mamaw told her.

Merriell took another long drag and shook his head. “Wait.” he let the smoke escape between his lips as he slipped his hands inside of his pocket. He noticed that Eugene was looking directly at him and fuck him if he didn't almost drop the small bag to the floor. He composed him in the best way he could, that was by finishing the cigarette to quickly start another. Merriell threw the little bag at her. “Present for you.” he grinned, wickedly.

Lou already knew it was going to be something gross or very offensive. Or dangerous. She opened the bag and furrowed her nose. “Smells awful, what the Hell is this?” she emptied the little bag on the table and little pieces scattered all over it.

Eugene couldn't help and lean forward, to take a proper look. One of them landed fairly close to him and... He felt his stomach churn and looked away.

“Oh, my God, those are _teeth_?!” she gasped as Merriell grinned.

“Mhmm. Grab a few, Lulu, make yourself a ring. It's about time to get married, huh?”

Mamaw pulled one of his ears and he hissed. “Get these off my table, _gamin_ , and into the bayou with 'em.”

Eugene was rather surprised to see that no matter how... ungovernable Merriell seemed to be, he only cursed her under his breath and picked the teeth to return them back inside the little bag.

“Where did you even find these?” Lou frowned.

“Got 'em myself.” And he looked at Eugene from the corner of his eyes, wanting to see how that would sit with him. _Yes, I have done terrible things, among them, I didn't even show any sort of respect or common decency towards the fallen enemy, now what?_ But Eugene was still looking calm and collected. Perhaps a little bit disgusted. But to Merriell's eyes, he had been ever since he touched him.

His fingers tingled and he knew he wanted to touch him.

Eugene stayed in silence, not talking to him. Why would he, anyway?

*** * ***

When Mamaw told Merriell that he had been living in his house, Eugene could tell that Merriell was mad. Only said “Yeah?” and then ignored him. As he did when they left _together_. For a moment he even thought that Merriell would push him off the boat. He looked around, at the fireflies while playing with his hands.

Merriell had never seen anything more beautiful than that. _I don't know you, but I can't live without you. Why didn't you write to me? I'll be whatever you want me to be, but please, help me. Heal me. Love me._ That's all that he kept thinking as the little bugs danced around Eugene's face.

 _You don't deserve him, cut this shit, already_.

Merriell stepped into the grass and rushed inside the house. It was Eugene who tied the boat and took his time to follow him. He swayed his hands, nervous and needing to do something with them. Merriell was already heading upstairs, to get some sleep. Or maybe to not have to talk to him at all. But Eugene decided that he had to say something.

“... _Merriell?_ ” he called, carefully.

He could have died in that moment and he would have died a _happy_ man. There's something better than hearing the one you dream about speak for the very same time while him calling your name? Not to him. His name translated into far too many things in his mind. All of them impossible for not being enough for someone like Eugene. He turned to look at him at the bottom of the stairs. He was unable to talk to him. His voice would break.

“I've... I've been sleeping in your bed.” Eugene explained and Merriell had to take a deep breath, keeping himself from thinking about him in his bed; warm and slightly flushed. Tired and with the blankets caressing his whole body. “I didn't know when you'd be back, so...” he licked his lips and Merriell gripped the railing, tightly. “I guess...” he tried again. “Do you want me to bring my things downstairs?”

It would be impossible for him to sleep on that bed. Not if it smelled like him. How grotesque would it be to hear someone masturbating upstairs because you slept on their bed? Traumatizing, at least. Merriell knew his body. He knew himself. He spent four years without a single thing. Not even a kiss. He was not testing his libido now that he was well fed and... Not well rested but at least having a proper surface to sleep on.

“Keep it.” he said as he headed downstairs once again.

“It would be just a mom—”

“ _Keep it_.” he repeated, vehemently, as he sat down on the couch.

Eugene seemed out of place for a second. Not knowing what to say or what to do. After a couple of seconds, he nodded. “Goodnight.” he muttered.

Merriell heard him walking upstairs and buried his face in his hands. _Holy fucking shit._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sois sage: Literally, it might mean “be wise”. But more like “behave yourself”.


	11. Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could talk. But about what?  
> About how long it took him to make amends with himself? With his... sexuality? With the feeling of failure for not being able to serve his country? Or should he talk about how he thought about him, constantly? Or should he tell him how only got him to burn and sigh like many others failed to while still being across the ocean? What should he say?  
> “I like you.” he tasted the words and they sounded brutally stupid. Merriell would ask him why and Eugene wouldn't know what to say. Because he didn't truly know him. He barely knew anything about him and yet he was under his skin; in his blood.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Merriell thinks that he doesn't deserve Eugene and that he owes him the universe for being around him. Let's calm down, Merry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *posts this chapter at three in the morning* Drop it like it's H O T. 
> 
> Warning: this chapter contains two derogatory terms/slurs. If this becomes something usual in the story, I'll tag it properly so you can feel comfortable with what you decide to read or not to read. 
> 
> Also! I think it's very sad how most veterans didn't really have much help when it came to their mental health after the war. And how themselves and their family had to find a solution at home. And how, also, some of them weren't very much aware of what was happening to them. I encourage you to read the article I mentioned at the end notes about soldiers' PTSD if you want to know more about it.
> 
> Anyway, as ALWAYS, I am very happy and grateful that you took the time to let me know that you liked the previous chapter. It made me so happy to see that you thought it was pretty alright! I was nervous about letting you down! 
> 
> We continue and we don't stop until they fall in love! :DD
> 
> Enjoy!

“Fucking idiot.” Eugene cursed. “Stupid, fucking idiot.” he would pray and ask for forgiveness tomorrow morning. “You complete fucking idiot.” he closed his eyes and sighed bitterly before he let his hands cover his face with shame and regret. “ _Do you want me to bring my stuff downstairs?_ ” he mimicked his own voice with cruelty. “Fucking idiot.” Eugene didn't remember cursing that much before (even if it was repeating that same word, not very _colorful_ ), but this had been the most frustrating thing he ever felt in his life. It was like he couldn't even force the words out of his mouth. _No! Even worse!_ Like his brain lost the ability to create a sentence with some sort of meaning. “You fucking... _dumbass_!” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and groaned. He had been waiting four years. Four! And now Merriell was literally downstairs, and he was unable to know what to do or what to say next. How could he fall asleep, now? After feeling like a terrified little boy?

His right hand fell to the side of his head, over the pillow. His fingers touched his hair and he thought about how Merriell touched that same spot. Eugene bit his lower lip, feeling the gentle burn on his stomach and the tightness on his chest. Why did he overreact? Why did he feel scared when he touched him? He got used to him while he was gone. Or maybe he had been nothing but a fool to think you can really adapt to someone that wasn't truly there. Eugene sighed, again, heavily and his other hand ended up on top of his stomach.

Now things were about to get terribly mundane. They would _live_ together. And if Merriell didn't want him out (he truly hoped not), they would sit down at the same table while having coffee, or end up confusing their shaving razors, or ask each other permission to read the newspaper only if they are done with it.

Or maybe none of that will happen. Maybe Merriell will truly kick him out. There was only one bed in this house even if there were two bedrooms. He was a soldier, he earned to sleep on a bed for the very rest of his days. Eugene... Well. He did other things. But never went through the discomfort of sleeping in a foxhole. So he assumed it was some sort of moral superiority.

His right hand folded under the back of his head and continued to chew and lick his lower lip. His left fingers played with the buttons of his pajamas. What could he do, tomorrow? _Talk_ , was the very first thing his mind told him. _Talk to him, don't be scared of rejection_. It was so easy to reach that conclusion, right? It's so easy to think about things when thinking had no real consequences. But to speak? He recalled how Phyllis told him that one could only be brave when he was terrified. Alright. He could talk. But about what?

About how long it took him to make amends with himself? With his... sexuality? With the feeling of failure for not being able to serve his country? Or should he talk about how he thought about him, constantly? Or should he tell him how only got him to burn and sigh like many others failed to while still being across the ocean? What should he say?

“I like you.” he tasted the words and they sounded brutally stupid. Merriell would ask him why and Eugene wouldn't know what to say. Because he didn't truly know him. He barely knew anything about him and yet he was under his skin; in his blood.

He was fond of the idea of Merriell. That doesn't mean he will like the real man.

Eugene turned and laid on his side, back to the wall.

Either way. He should talk about what mattered the most: the help Merriell clearly needed. He never saw a soul like that. It made him think of a rusty weapon. Old and tired, overly used. But sharpened to the extreme to become something harmful and protective. Would his soul leave a mark on his own?

 _I hope so_.

Eugene blinked the hair away from his eyes and turned again, hoping to to leave that stupid thought on the other side of the bed.

By now, he should try to get some sleep. He will see what Merriell will want from him, eventually. And that will be... perfectly fine and enough. No matter what. There was no need to be scared.

 _There's plenty to be scared_ , his mind decided to betray him after cheering him up, _if he asks you to leave, you have no reason to stay here. You'll lose Mamaw and Lou. You will lose Judith and Phyllis. You will have to go back to Mobile, and what do you have there? Sid?_

And he felt terribly guilty for thinking about Sid as someone who was no longer enough. But... It wasn't _him_. He was the symbol of everything that he wanted to leave behind. With him, he felt, like he could never be the Eugene that he was now. Because he tricked him. Eugene trapped himself in that perfect idea of a young respectable man. And Sid became friends with _that_ Eugene. Not this one who no longer cried because he didn't understand himself or choked with the mere idea of seeing the future with his own eyes.

 _In Mobile I have my parents_ , he forced himself to think. _My father loves me_.

He did. He told him.

 _And my mother doesn't know_.

 _And my brother hates me_.

His brother who started college last September and did not reply any of his letters. Same brother that didn't want to talk to him through the phone when Eugene called last Christmas. While he thought that he should give him some time, Eugene was starting to feel a little bit scared that maybe he lost him and he allowed such thing to happen.

Tonight, he felt like he took all the wrong moves ever since this started.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

*** * ***

Four in the morning.

Eugene fell asleep a couple of hours ago after overthinking about everything he did and failed to do. He didn't get to rest long when he woke up, startled. At first he thought someone broke inside the house (that _still_ didn't have a lock) and started _crying_. Then he paid more attention and while he was not used to that voice, it was still in the back of his mind: _Merriell_.

He sat down on the bed and frowned, looking at the door and waiting to hear another noise. Eugene breathed silently to not confuse his sleepy brain. After a couple of seconds came another pained moan. Eugene got off the bed and grabbed his dressing-gown. He tied it tightly around his waist and headed downstairs. After working at the hospital for a couple of years, it was sort of a natural instinct to be ready for anyone that could need your help.

When he reached the living room, he saw him, tossing and turning on the couch. He only removed his tie. He kept his uniform and his boots. Once again, Eugene understood more than he would have been given credit for: you don't get to change and you keep your shoes on just in case if someone jumps on you during the night or you have to carry on. You take your shoes off? You lose them. Try to fight a war barefoot.

For a moment, Eugene simply stood there and saw how Merriell squirmed, like he was trying to release himself from some invisible vines. _This could had been you_ , his mind told him, _you wanted to feel like a hero and this is what Marines get: nightmares and isolation_. He licked his lips and looked down, feeling that he had been such a foolish boy. Was duty, after all, more important than self-care?

He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he couldn't leave him like that. His whimpers would torment him. He would feel like he already failed him. And God knows how much he was suffering now that his own brain was unable to escape those terrible times in those islands. Eugene approached the couch and called his name.

And then another time, louder. But nothing. Merriell was trapped inside of that hideous world. Eugene felt protective. Eugene wanted to help him. Save him. So, with his best intentions, but perhaps a little bit naïve, he placed a hand on Merriell's shoulder and shook him. He called his name, louder one last time.

Merriell opened his eyes and didn't quite see him. The veteran moved abruptly and Eugene didn't have the time to react. He ended on his back, on the space between the coffee table and the couch, with Merriell's hand on his throat and his knee on his shoulder. Eugene's heart vibrated right on his throat and his eyes were wild. From that position he could see how Merriell's features shifted from complete anger, to confusion to absolute _regret_. Eugene had to forgive him right away. Even before he got off him. He had been tortured: his flesh was _perhaps_ unharmed (he didn't get to see if he had any scar on him) but his mind and his spirit told him enough.

Merriell gave him his back, trembling from head to toe, with his fingers on his temples, like he was trying to remind himself where he was. Eugene was silent, with his heart still nervous and panting a little bit. He caressed his throat and it didn't hurt. It was just that he startled him. He didn't hurt him and he should know. “Merriell.” he said, as calmly as possible. His voice shaky and Merriell tensed. “I'm okay.” he insisted a little bit, placing a hand over the couch, standing up. “It's okay, you didn't h—”

“The fuck is wrong with you, Sledge?” Merriell hissed and he couldn't see his face. Eugene wanted to approach him, caress his shoulders and tell him that it was okay. That it had been his fault for ignoring such an obvious detail: wake up abruptly means that you are under attack. Anyone around is an enemy. “You just wake up someone like that? _What the fuck_.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't...” he tried.

“You are _sorry_?” People like Sledge should not apologize to him, Merriell thought. His heart was burning his chest and he couldn't see properly. He felt dizzy and he wanted to drop on his knees and ask Sledge to be patient with him. To please stay even if he was broken and disgusting and a fucking hideous human being.

 _You hurt him, you piece of shit. You still think you can be what he wants? What he deserves? No. You aren't. And you will never be. Be a man: face what you've done_.

Merriell began to turn around, slowly, dropping his trembling hands by his sides. Eugene was touching his neck and he wanted to _die_. He didn't mean to hurt him. He didn't want to. In fact, people like Eugene shouldn't know how pain felt like. People like his Eugene should never be any close to suffering. And yet, he did nothing but... scare him and hurt him. And barely met him a couple of hours ago. Oh, he was going to be _sick_.

Literally.

Merriell ran towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Eugene didn't know what to do. He stood there, in the living room, like a complete idiot, as he heard Merriell gag and finally throw up. Once and then twice. Eugene felt pure shame and he looked down, wanting to cry and ask him to forgive him. Let him know he didn't want to push him to that situation. But he took a deep breath and did what he was meant to do: watch after him.

He knocked at the door, gently, while Merriell panted on the other side. His throat was burning and Mamaw's food now tasted bitter on the corner of his lips and behind his teeth. Merriell spat and flushed down the toiled, staying on the floor, like the piece of trash that he was. Fuck. He covered his face and pressed his palms against his thin tears. He sniffed and kicked the door. “Leave me the fuck alone!” he roared, his voice beyond helpless.

Eugene bounced, a little startled and took a step back. He couldn't... do that. He couldn't leave him alone. “I'll just... If you need anything...” Merriell didn't answer or interrupt him, so he guessed that was _something_. Eugene sat down on the floor, by the door and held his knees, resting his chin on top of them.

This is not getting any better, is it?

*** * ***

At some point, Eugene fell asleep out of exhaustion and not because he achieved any sort of peace of mind. When he woke up, his back was hurting and his neck would punish during the whole day for taking such a stupid decision. Eugene rubbed his eyes and groaned, sitting down properly before he arched his back. He looked around and shifted a bit on the floor until he could see the clock of the living room. He had twenty minutes to get dressed and have some breakfast if he wanted to make it to his first class.

When Eugene stood up and stretched his limbs, everything was hurting. He had been such a fool, but Merriell... He turned a little bit and knocked gently. “Merriell?” he called, but no reply. He became a little bit anxious. What if he did... something stupid? What if he passed out? What if he... choked in his own vomit? He knocked again, faster and far more rushed. “Merriell, can you hear me?”

“What do you want?” it came out rough and angry. But at least he got a reply.

“Uh... I have to go to class.”

Nothing. Silence once again.

“So I guess I'll see you later.”

But Merriell was not talking to him. So he headed upstairs, took a very quick shower, dressed up and barely had time to drink the coffee he just made. He stopped by the door of the bathroom and parted his lips. “There's...” _Coffee_. Whatever. He was late. Eugene didn't finish the sentence and left the house.

Merriell opened the door of the bathroom ten minutes after Eugne left, like the damn coward that he was. His whole body was aching and exhausted and he knew he didn't deserve any better. But that was _nothing_. He spent months, _years_ , without resting properly. What's another night? He didn't even look at himself in the mirror. He felt disgusting, he didn't need to confirm what he already knew.

In those moments when he felt like there was no hope left for him, he always tried to seek comfort. He dragged his feet upstairs and slipped inside of his former room. Eugene changed a few things. Should he care? It's just a room.

Merriell sat down on the bed and caressed the mattress, feeling that the blankets were cold. He truly spent the whole night waiting for him to come out. Why? He wasn't worth ten minutes of his time. He caressed the fabric like it was a lover: with tenderness and dedication. His imagination twisted and told him that maybe, and just maybe, Eugene's skin was just as soft. But that he would never get to find out. After licking his lips, he bowed his head forward and inhaled Eugene's scent that was still lingering over the pillow.

Christ, what's that smell? It sweet and makes him feel warm. What is it? Did he forget the loveliest scents after being surrounded by the stench of death for so long? He sat down properly before he would end up humping a pillow like he was some sort of teenager. That was not the kind of comfort he needed. He wanted something far more _innocent_.

Merriell opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled the box out. He barely paid attention to the tokens and took the little picture he cherished ever since he got it. His mother's eyes were just as big as his and her scrawny shoulders made him think that, at the age of twenty-five, he was already older than she had been when she died. He spent four years without that picture; terrified that he could lose it during the war. Just the sight of her, made his chest hurt. What wouldn't he give to know what her voice sounded like. Not even have her back. He didn't quite deserve that. But just to be able to listen to her. Perhaps just... hear her saying that she loved him. And that while she was not even with them anymore, she was watching after him. God knows he needed her.

He pressed a kiss against the old photograph and sighed. Merriell heard himself sob and he just knew: he was fucking _pathetic_.

*** * ***

He avoided going to Mamaw's. She would know right away what he did. Perhaps she already knew. And he didn't feel like being scolded for acting like a fucking savage. Or being told how it was absolutely stupid to try to scare Eugene like he did last night with the gold teeth. He didn't know what he was doing. Other than ruining himself and any sort of chance he had to befriend Eugene. Why bother trying? The kid did not belong in a little house in the middle of a bayou. He went to _college_. Merriell's education was non-existant.

No matter what, there wasn't a single thing about him Eugene could like: he never went to school, he was not generous or kind, the house that he had been given to him probably because either cursed or some other shit, and he was currently unemployed. He should solve that.

Merriell bought a pack of cigarettes and wandered. But wait a second: who the fuck even says that Eugene is into men?

Hoping to find out, Eugene headed towards Lulu's house to find it empty. Then he did his best to remember where she was working. She told him. The French Quarter. _Well_. It's not like he had nowhere else to be.

It took him almost an hour to finally find the store. He opened the green door and hit the little bell above. Then hit it once again when he let the door go and shut all by itself. Merriell looked at the different fabrics and buttons without any sort of interest with another cigarette hanging from his mouth; his hands buried in his pockets.

It was still bizarre to hear her voice followed by heels hitting against the floor: “Good morning, how can I hel—” she stopped herself when there was no need to be polite. It was just _him_. “Merry, what are you doin' here?”

“Are you busy?” he asked.

“I'm _workin'_.” she replied with her hands on her waist. Her nails were red and that was even far more strange. But he assumed she saved some of it by only having to paint eight instead of ten. His own malicious thought made him smile.

Merriell looked around and arched an eyebrow before his eyes landed on her again: the store was empty. “You don't look busy.”

She sighed, absolutely defeated: “What is it?”

By the way he shrugged and leaned over the counter, she knew that he either didn't want anything or he didn't know how to ask. She guessed that she could give him a few minutes and see if he dared to talk. “Where's your cousin? He ain't dead, is he?”

“Moved to Philly before Christmas.”

“Why?”

“He found a job there.” she lied. He was working, but it wasn't like he didn't have the chance to find a job way closer to New Orleans. Lou felt a little frustrated but she assumed that it goes with falling in love: you want to be with that person and that person alone. And that Babe boy was, in the end, pretty damn alright.

“Doin' what?”

“You don't look all too great, Merry.” Lou interrupted him. “Did you get any sleep? Or a shower?” she noticed that his uniform was slowly losing items: he was no longer wearing a tie or the foolish little hat.

“Didn't.”

“Spent the night catchin' up with Eugene?” she grinned, thinking she was _oh so bold and smart_.

Merriell snorted: “No, we didn't _talk_.”

Lou licked her lips and frowned, clearly displeased with that answer. But then Merriell could see how there was something that changed right behind her eyes. Then she raised her eyebrows and blushed, lightly. “Oh, _wow_. So soon?” Lou entertained herself with the idea that Eugene truly did look like the kind that would be _so against_ premarital sex. He went to church every Sunday morning anyway! But maybe... if he couldn't marry a man then it didn't really matter? She was still a little surprised.

“We didn't fuck either, Lulu.” Merriell replied.

“Classy as always, Merry.” she winced a little bit at the very direct and crude word.

He didn't have the strength to tease her any further. So he shrugged and took another long drag from his cigarette. He was looking at her, but not really. And Lou could recognize that look well. She saw her own cousin staying in silence for minutes, looking at her but not seeing anything. And sometimes he came back saying: _who's calling me?_ No one. No one at all. Lou knew that there were things she would _never_ understand. You can't imagine such things. Your mind won't let you because you don't think such situations could even happen. So she was careful when she rested her hand over Merriell's forearm.

He blinked and focused his eyes on her.

“He hates me, Lulu.” he whispered with a very thin voice.

“No. No, Merry, he doesn't.”

“He will. _Look at me_.”

_Look at what I am. Who could want to be around someone like this? He is not a fucking coonass like we are. Like I am. He ain't broken either. He could get so much more than I could ever give him. Just look at me and tell me I don't deserve shit._

“I hate it when you do this.” she mumbled with a little frown. “You get older and you keep doin' this.” she looked away, frustrated. “You are so scared of people leavin' you that you don't even give them a chance. Well, Merry, you don't know Eugene. Not yet. And he doesn't know you either. Not really!” she huffed. “Would it be so weird for you two to _talk_?”

“Why would he want to get to know me?”

“Don't know! Same reason why he's still here, maybe?!”

“That bein'?”

“Because he _wants_ to!” she slapped the counter. “You weren't here and he decided to stay! Because he is happy here! And because he was waitin' for you! Jesus Christ, Mamaw told me you two would be slow but not _that_ slow!” her cheeks were a little red once again and Merriell smiled a little, remembering that angry Lulu from his past. “Don't you dare to grin. I'm mad. This is so frustrating! You two have so much to talk about. So much to say... And you just _won't_?”

“What would I say?”

“That you thought about him? That you, _don't know_ , have been wanting to meet him ever since you knew he existed? That you two are... meant to be together?”

“He a pansy?” he mumbled, quickly growing bitter and sarcastic, terrified that she might say: _No, he isn't. You two could be just friends, though_.

“ _Don't_.” she hissed. “If you want to talk to me, you don't get to use that word.”

Merriell shrugged and knew that she was right. Why the fuck would he say that? Why the fuck did he do any of the shit he was doing since he came back?

“I hurt him, last night.” he finally confessed, letting the shame and the guilt choke him, because he didn't deserve any better.

“What happened?” Lou sounded a little worried.

 _Sure she will take his side, so get ready to lose another_.

“I was havin' a nightmare. He woke me up and I grabbed his neck.”

She bit her lower lip: “Is he okay?”

“He apologized. _To me_.” that was the most disgusting part.

“Maybe he understands you didn't do it on purpose.”

“So what?”

“What do you mean _so what_?”

“I did it, anyway. Who the fuck cares if I didn't mean to do it. Why would he forgive me? Or apologize to me?” he repeated, his voice becoming tight.

“You are really goin' to be so cruel to yourself?” she asked.

Cruel? He was being fucking _fair_. If you do something, you accept the consequences. It didn't matter if he confused Eugene with a fucking Jap.

“I ain't cruel.”

“You can't switch it off. If my cousin couldn't, what makes you think you will?” she crossed her arms. “You need some time. Calm the fuck down. Enjoy the time while Eugene is here. You don't want to kick him out and then regret your whole life, do you?”

Well... “ _No_.” he whispered.

“Apologize, then. Explain him what happened.”

“Why don't you tell him for me?”

“Oh, Hell, _no_.” she shook her head. “I did plenty during these four years. And I know it, I know it that if I keep doin' so, I'll get the blame! For one reason or another, and as soon as somethin' goes wrong! You two are grown ups, act accordingly!”

Maybe she had a point, there. Lou was five years younger than he was. He _shouldn't_ depend on her. “I'll talk to him, tonight.”

“You better or your Mamaw will _skin_ you.”

*** * ***

Merriell decided to go home. Take a shower. Look like a fucking person. _Look like one, and then act like one. Fake it until you make it_. He continued to smoke and had to buy yet another pack of cigarettes. If he keeps doing that, he will waste all the money he got in smoking.

He spent more than fifteen minutes under the water; feeling it go down his body, ease the knots on his back and his tired limbs. He tilted his head back and he thought about Eugene. Maybe he could ask him what he was studying. What he did he do since he arrived here. _Other than not writing to me_. If he liked New Orleans. If Mobile was nicer. If he had any siblings. _Something_. Just anything that would allow him to see him as the person he wanted to become. As someone... normal. Not too damaged. Not too unstable. Someone he _wouldn't mind_ being around.

 _Just apologize, we'll see if you dare to say anything else after that_.

Dressing up as a civilian once again was strange. Merriell ignored Eugene's clothes and tried to find his own in the closet. He grabbed the first trousers and shirt that he could recognize after he threw his uniform to the floor of the wardrove. It didn't deserve any more respect than that.

As he did the buttons of his shirt, he couldn't help but notice that the clothes were _clean_. They didn't smell like they had been stored in a closet for years. They smelled like they had been washed not that long ago. But why...? Eugene had no reason to wash his clothes. No one was there to wear to them.

_Unless..._

No. _Impossible_. Why the fuck would he wear his clothes when his were far nicer? That was fucking stupid. Merriell got mad at himself for being so stupid and slammed the closet shut.

*** * ***

Eugene was _exhausted_.

He wanted to go to bed as soon as possible. The idea of dealing with Merriell made him feel a little bit nervous, but he decided that it was not worth it. He clearly didn't want to speak to him, so maybe he should give him some space. Or let him decide if he wanted him out of the house. One way or another... He shouldn't worry. It would be _alright_.

When he arrived to Mamaw's, he noticed that Merriell was right there, on the porch, smoking a cigarette with one hand, distracted. Eugene was far more careful this time and didn't try to touch him.

“Merriell?” he called, gently. He blinked and turned his head, to look at him. “It's cold, want to come inside with me?”

Merriell threw the cigarette into the bayou. He looked away and then down. Eugene didn't try to rush him as he needed a few seconds to gather some courage to say: “Wanna talk to you, first.”

Eugene nodded a little bit, to let him know he was listening.

Merriell brushed his hair and then let his hand fall. In that moment he wished the little hut would sink, so he wouldn't have to say a single thing. But then he would keep feeling like shit. It's either speak or fucking speak. “ _Sorry_.” there. _Continue_. “I'm sorry. I thought you were...” No need to say that. “I didn't notice it was you. Didn't wanna hurt you.”

“You didn't.” Eugene denied, slowly. Then he smiled a little bit. Merriell thought he would _die_ in that moment. “I'm not mad.”

“Well. You _should_.” he whispered with his eyes on his shoes once again.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I lashed out at you, Sledge.”

“Yes, and I forgive you.” he repeated. “Look, Merriell I don't... know. What you saw. What lived. What you had to do. I can imagine, but I don't know.” The veteran crossed his arms, defensive and scared. “But I've seen... other soldiers. And I know...” he hated it when he didn't know how to explain what he wanted to say. “I worked at the hospital while you were away. And... during the last year of the war, we had to attend many wounded men. And you'd think _that_ was enough. But then... their mind and their spirit were...” _even worse_. “They couldn't sleep at night. The doctors called it _Combat Fatigue_.”

Merriell was not seriously injured during the war. He didn't understand why he had to be diagnosed with _anything_. So he only shrugged a little bit. “Don't know what's that.”

“Nothing... bad.” Eugene didn't want to sound like he was accusing him. But he wanted to help. And now that he finally dared to talk, he didn't want to give himself the chance to be a coward again. “I even read this magazine that spoke about _The Guadalcanal Disorder_. You were there, right?”

“Sure was.”

“So was Sid.” Eugene commented and Merriell turned around a little bit, to look at the dark expansion of water. “Some veterans react poorly to loud noises and have panic attacks. Because of Guadalcanal.”

Guadalcanal? If he had to say what had been the worse, there was no doubt: Okinawa. Through and through. Merriell looked at him once again, not knowing what he should say anymore.

Eugene continued: “What I am trying to say is... I know it was not _you_ who lashed out at _me_. It was the _soldier_ you still are who lashed out at an _enemy_ he couldn't see all too clearly. I am not mad at you, Merriell. But if that makes you feel better, you are _forgiven_.”

Just like that. He grabbed him by the neck, and he forgave him. Eugene was good. Too good for someone like Merriell. He smiled once again when he observed him. He didn't dare to approach him but he really wanted to make sure he didn't bruise him. So he asked, trying to sound careless, perhaps even like he was teasing: “Wouldn't want to scare you by leaving a mark on you.”

And just like that, Eugene recalled what he thought the previous night, when he was trying to fall asleep: hoping that his soul would leave a mark on his own. Eugene snorted, almost blushing, and Merriell couldn't help but smirk: “Yeah, didn't happen, Merriell.”

“Don't know, Sledge, rich kids bruise easily.”

“...I'm not a rich k—”

“Oh, please. Look at _you_.”

*** * ***

And because Eugene had been so good to him, Merriell decided to be good, as well. In the only way he knew, which was destructive and willing to hurt himself just to not worry the boy that was sleeping upstairs. The stayed the whole night awake. No dreams, no nightmares.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCES:
> 
> During WWII and the years after the conflict, the PTSD the veterans suffered was called “Combat Fatigue” or “Battle Neurosis”. During WWI it was called “Shell Shock”.  
> In 1943, The American Psychiatric Association described the Guadalcanal Disorder as “sensitivity to sharp noises, periods of amnesia, tendency to get panicky, tense muscles, tremors, hands that shook when they tried to do anything. They were frequently close to tears or very short-tempered.” when more than 500 Marines struggled with those symptoms after the battle of Guadalcanal. Source: [Warfare History Network](https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/daily/wwii/the-breaking-point-combat-stress-in-wwii/).


	12. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were many things about Merriell that made him tremendously human, and at the same time, didn't. He was always trying to find the warmest spots of the house. It was still February, and not a especially sunny one. But each time that the Sun peeked behind the clouds, Merriell walked outside the house and sat down on the grass, like a reptile trying to warm his blood before going back to the depths. Eugene found him there the Sunday he came back from the mass, with his eyes closed and smoking. He didn't noticec him and Eugene simply stared at him. The weight of his presence made his stomach feel heavy and his lips nervous. He chewed them and realized that he wanted to sit down by his side. Even perhaps ask him to teach him how to smoke, just to get a excuse to be close to his mouth. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Coffee is the new 'I love you so much'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuuoooh!!!
> 
> This is BAD!
> 
> BTW, can you believe that Lou is the first Cajun to not fall for a redhead? That's /wild/.  
> Anyway, I don't know what to say. The next chapter will be better. They will actually talk. Maybe because one of them will get drunk. Or not! I am not 100% sure, yet! But that's the idea bc... Mardi Gras. So this might or might not happen, but they will talk. MARK MY WORDS. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kudos, comments, support and all the nice messages you sent me to my blog. I really appreciate you all taking the time to read this and let me know about your opinion.  
> Enjoy! :D

They talked, but it was like none of them spoke about the things that _truly_ mattered. Merriell didn't ask why he didn't write to him and Eugene didn't ask him to open up, so he could finally beging to heal him. It was _fear_. Merriell was scared that Eugene would confirm that he didn't care. And Eugene was terrified that the veteran would reject him and his help when he clearly needed it.

When he was desperate to make him _happy_.

They had been living together for a week and Eugene had been observing him. Dull conversations in the morning, and a few more significant ones in their way back home from Mamaw's. But nothing too revealing, most of the times it was Eugene who spoke about himself and his family. Merriell looked too tired to talk.

To Eugene's surprise, Merriell found a job three days after coming back home. It had been rather fast. It took him far more to find his place. Turns out they were just a couple of weeks away from Mardi Gras (not that Lou would ever stop speaking about it, since the last time it was celebrated was in 1941), and they needed more people with the production of floats. Merriell told him that his job was _far from being artsy, Sledge_ , that he only made the wooden structures and that sculptors did _the real tough and fancy work_.

When Eugene asked him what he would do after Mardi Gras, Merriell told him that he already spoke with his former employer and that he could always go back to the sawmill. Eugene thought that was a tough job, but maybe that was just him being _a rich kid_ as Merriell called him.

There were many things about Merriell that made him tremendously human, and at the same time, _didn't_. He was always trying to find the warmest spots of the house. It was still February, and not a especially sunny one. But each time that the Sun peeked behind the clouds, Merriell walked outside the house and sat down on the grass, like a _reptile_ trying to warm his blood before going back to the depths. Eugene found him there the Sunday he came back from the mass, with his eyes closed and smoking. He didn't notice him and Eugene simply stared at him. The weight of his presence made his stomach feel heavy and his lips nervous. He chewed them and realized that he wanted to sit down by his side. Even perhaps ask him to teach him how to smoke, just to get a excuse to be close to his mouth.

Other times, Merriell was a _feline_. He was quiet and he moved with a grace that only a creature that stood out by its stealth and lethargy could capture. He rolled his shoulders and tilted his head to the side while he spoke to Eugene. It was like he never stopped moving, but it was with such a slow tempo, that in the end it became some of graceful sway. It was very _unlike_ a soldier to move like that. But, in the end, he didn't know because he never became one of those. So, when Eugene spoke to him and he was brave enough to do so while looking at him, his eyes usually got distracted just by looking at his neck and his hands. If he ever got to see more than that, he felt like he would have far more complications with his already _defective_ heart.

It was funny how the same person could look completely different during different situations. But it was something that happened every single morning, when Eugene was about to leave and go to class and Merriell had to start to get ready to go to work. In that moment, when Eugene handed him a cup of coffee, he thought of Merriell as _divine_. No longer a creature that needed to borrow warmth to survive or that was constantly looking at him, charming him with something as simple as the move of the back of his hand when he smoked his cigarette. _No_. Early in the morning, Merriell was a pagan God. One that needs to be _worshipped_.

He learned plenty from Mamaw. He saw how their beliefs were similar but different. Eugene lit candles and prayed for protection. She offered rum and cigars for the mystères to keep her strong. And that simple cup of coffee (that was neither tasty or remarkably good) became the offering of the morning. He even knew how he liked it. It only took him one morning to remember because it was that ridiculous: Merriell liked to have his coffee with _four_ spoons of sugar. _That's far too much sugar_ , Eugene's brain told him. But that little detail made it far less mundane and turned something that happened daily into something sacred. Eugene knew enough to be able to tell that in every single pantheon, there were tricksters and deceiving spirits. And they usually had a sweetooth.

Merriell became one of them when the Sun raised.

He handed him the coffee and Merriell accepted it. He drank it quick, so Eugene could see he finished it before he even left. Like his little wish had been granted. And perhaps it did, because Merriell didn't ask him to leave _yet_.

Not even when he _still_ had his bedroom. Little Eugene knew that Merriell was no longer trying to sleep. It had been a whole week and while he grew used to barely sleeping, this was torture. But everything got a little better when Eugene had his cup of coffee ready every single morning. He smiled at him and Merriell couldn't look away. He didn't want to scare him or ever hurt him again. He didn't mind the consequences. Not when he could take a nap at Mamaw's after work and until Eugene would join them for dinner. He would rather have her hear him scream than Eugene. Nothing could scare Mamaw anymore.

Of course, the old woman disapproved as she did with practically everything he did.

“Consumption ain't the best decision, Merry.” she said when he sat down by her side, with his arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss against her cheek. He was always affectionate when he was sleepy or they were alone.

The hunger her child had for love was never-ending.

“Don't wanna scare him off.” he mumbled.

“Our _Ange_ is here to soothe you.” how many times did she have to explain him? She helped Marie to keep him in her womb for him; to save him. It was _fair_ : no debt or duty.

“ _Ange_.” Merriell repeated with a small smile, his mind all sweet while thinking about his boy. “He doesn't care about me, Mamaw.” he sighed. “Not like _that_.”

She shook her head. He had to see it with his own eyes to believe it. Her Merry was stubborn like that.

*** * ***

That Friday, after work, Merriell bumped into Bill Bowers.

He told him that he served in Europe. That he was sent to Italy. He had been lucky enough to come back home alive and without a blue ticket. Not that many black soldiers had the same luck, he heard. He seemed to be pretty damn happy, and that was surprising. Maybe the golden ring around his finger had something to do with that. He remembered that Romie told him that Bowers dated Minnie Harrison before the war. _Good for them_.

And then, he found himself surprised that he didn't think about Romie until _now_.

“How's Romero?” he asked, suddenly, as Bowers kept going about his wonderful married life.

“Rob...” he sighed and denied. “It's been pretty tough for him, you know?”

“Was there when he lost his arm.” Merriell nodded, remembering how his right arm was simply _gone_ and he had to leave him behind.

“ _Yeah_.” he replied, like that was something impossible to ignore. “They brought him here last September. He got out of the hospital in November. He's livin' with his Mama, now. Tryin' to find a job. But they aren't hirin' wounded veterans.” he explained briefly.

“Don't you say.” Merriell couldn't help but mumble, bitterly. Bowers looked away, maybe because he was just as frustrated that his best friend ended up screwed. And not only that, also ignored and left aside because, _hey_. Veterans mean shit now that there are no battles left to fight. Fuck them, their broken minds and their destroyed bodies, right? “Gonna stop by.” Now, he doubted he would be the best visit Romie could get, but _fuck_. That shit of brothers in arms kind of makes sense, now.

*** * ***

Eugene arrived home before Merriell did that Friday, right after lunch.

After doing absolutely _nothing_ for a couple of hours, he decided that he should clean the house. Make sure they took care of the present Mamaw gave them (the story was still a bit of a mystery, maybe he could ask Merriell, someday, see if he knew something about it). So he began with his bedroom (they would have to talk about that, as well), and quickly moved to the corridor; to the closet.

Eugene noticed that Merriell's uniform was on the floor right away. Not that he as very fussy when it came to order, but he didn't like it when things were all over the floor. He didn't bring it up (because once again, they talk, but not _really_ ) and didn't do anything about it, because maybe Merriell left it on the floor because he didn't want to see it. Or maybe because he thought the floor was the proper place for his uniform. But the more he saw it, the more it irked him. So that afternoon, Eugene picked it up.

He almost wanted to wear it, for a second, just to see how he would have looked like as a Marine. But that was _stupid_. He shook it a little bit to get rid of the dust that probably collected during the last week. As he did so, something fell and Eugene only noticed because it hit his chest before landing right between his shoes.

It looked like a little piece of paper. It could be something important: like a receipt or the address of some of his _war buddies_. He decided to take it, just to return it back where it belonged. But he couldn't help himself and decided to take a look.

And he saw himself. _And Lou_. It was easy to tell what happened, because he recalled the day they took that picture together. The corners of the photograph were rounded and the paper was smooth, like he had carried it with him for quite some time. Perhaps ever since she sent it to him.

Eugene felt his heart on his throat: so Merriell knew he had been there since... When? At least since the summer of 1944, when that picture was taken. But he also recalled how Lou spent a whole year asking him to have their picture taken before he even agreed. Maybe Merriell knew he had been there, _at least_ , since 1943.

He knew he had been there and therefore, he knew that he didn't write to him because... Well, he couldn't know the reason. But he didn't write to him and Eugene felt guilty. And he cursed himself for never being able to finish one of those many letters he wrote. He rubbed his lips and closed his eyes, not knowing how he was supposed to face him, now. Pretend he didn't find it? Or... Or what? Let him know: _I ended up feeling so much about you, that I couldn't find a way to let you know about everything_.

Yeah, like that wouldn't sound incriminatory. Or awkward. Or even _offensive_. What if Merriell didn't really like him? What if he thought that he was nothing but a rich boy that never faced a single struggle in his life? What if he thought that he was a coward? Or that he was careless and mean for not having the humanity to write to someone that could lose his life at any moment?

She shouldn't have done that. Not without telling him.

Eugene returned the picture back to the pocket were it belonged and dropped the uniform on the floor, once again lacking the courage to face the situation. Or maybe delaying it until he would actually know what to say or how to excuse himself.

He rushed to the city.

*** * ***

As Lou predicted the previous week, she was about to get the consequences for standing between two people that refused to either talk or acknowledge each other's existence.

Eugene waited until the last costumer was gone, so she wouldn't have any problem with her boss. But when they were alone in the store, Lou tilted her head when he didn't smile back at him. It was like she already knew, because she asked: “What have I done, now?”

“You told him.”

“Told him what?”

“You sent him our photograph.”

She bit her lower lip and furrowed her nose: “Well... _Yes_.”

“ _And_ you let him know I was here. Without telling me.” he continued, his shoulders all tense and his voice dangerously low.

“No! It wasn't like that!” she denied, quickly. “He already knew you were here! Almost right away! He even knew your name. What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“I don't believe you. How could he even know I was here?” that was _ridiculous_.

“He did, I promise! I kept all his letters, I can show you! He knew your name and surname! I couldn't lie to him! I know it was not my thing to do, but I couldn't lie to him. I really thought it would make him happy! Soldiers need to think about home to ke—”

“You should have minded your _own_ business.” he cut her once again.

And _that_ made her lose her patience. The patience she tried to have for quite some time now. She didn't have to do any of that. Either write Merriell or keep Eugene company during the war. She did it because she thought she was helping. Out of good intentions and because she really wanted Merry to be happy. And because she grew very fond of Eugene and she wanted him to be happy, as well. Hopefully, they will be happy _together_ , if they overcome their stupid little excuses. They _should_ have, already! They've been living together for almost two weeks!

“I think that's fuckin' unfair, Eugene.” she began. “It was _you_ who decided to not write to him. Of course he would know you were here! What did you expect? Your mind was somewhere else! Or maybe you didn't know what to say, but _of course_ you were here! You can't blame me for not wanting to deal with the situation.” Eugene tried to open his mouth to try to correct her, but she truly did not let him. “If you think that I want anythin' else that is not the best for you two, then I'm fuckin' sorry you still think that low of me. I did not want to make you look like a _coward_ , since you are so stupidly obsessed with that word.” she did notice the blush that spread over his cheeks. That was a confirmation, but she already knew she was right. “I wanted you to have each other when you two were clearly suffering. One fighting a war with another country, and you fighting a war with yourself. But, y'know what? I'm not gonna do this _ever_ again. I'm done bein' in the middle. You heard me? _Done_!”

This time she did not stay quiet like she did when she was fifteen.

Eugene apologized and understood that, _yeah_. Maybe it was on him and that had been a stupid move.

 _Just deal with it, for Christ's sake_.

*** * ***

Even Romie's mama was taller than he was. She had his same dark eyes, tanned complexion and tender smile. The only difference was that she spoke with a thick Spanish accent. The boy himself told him that his parents didn't move from La Habana to New Orleans until they got married, little before he was born. That took them a bit to catch up with the language. Merriell didn't think he could complain, he was told by other Marines that there was no fucking way to understand him with his broken French, Cajun accent and poor linguistics. Did he care? No. Did he try to make himself more understable? Also no.

She called his name rather loudly ( _¡Roberto, m'ijo!_ ) and asked him if he wanted to come in. Merriell denied, as polite as he could (he always felt intimidated by mothers, maybe it was a childhood trauma or something), and she smiled at him until Romie showed up.

“¿Sí?” he asked before he saw Merriell standing in front of their door. “Merriell.” he looked a little surprised, like he truly didn't expect him to try to see him after the war.

He felt a little embarrassed by that. Maybe he was a terrible friend. Well, no. He was for sure. But the moment of shame died soon enough when he saw him, properly. Fuck, war is so fucking unfair. There was nothing left of his right arm. The right sleeve of his shirt had been neatly folded so it wouldn't hang. He could see the tenderness of his mother on that detail and how she caressed his cheek before she left them alone.

Romie looked undoubtedly sad. Even sadder than he looked during his last days in Okinawa. Merriell couldn't imagine how it was to lose an arm. But for fucking sure it wouldn't be easy. While he never spoke that much to Romie or Bowers before the war, he always thought about them as the perfect picture of happiness. They were good kids and all they did was _dance_. Never trying to get involved in fights or chasing girls. Just dancing and having a good time. And yet, he got screwed so hard that now, they didn't even want to employ him. That was fucking _bullshit_.

“Bumped into Bowers just now.” Merriell explained. Romie smiled briefly at the mention of his best friend. “I'm glad you got back home. They wouldn't tell us shit about you.”

“They kept me in Australia for a while. Can't remember.” he shook his head. “When did you arrive?”

“Couple of weeks ago.”

Romie nodded, slowly. Merriell grew a little bit nervous as the silence stretched. Romie was brutally sincere when he mumbled: “I'm happy you didn't get hurt, Merriell.”

Fuck, why did he want to cry, now?

“I'm sorry. We had to keep movin'.” he said before he couldn't help himself. “I didn't... I don't...” his throat was tight. He cleared it. “Fuck, Romie. I didn't kn—”

“It's _okay_.” Romie interrupted him. “I don't remember much _after_ the explosion.” but before and during? You don't get to see a woman and her baby explode and forget about it. Even Merriell thought about it, now, when he only saw it from a safe distance.

He didn't know how he looked, in that moment. Maybe guilty beyond words because Romie rested his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, warmly. That kid was a good guy and it frustrated him beyond words that he got hurt. _Life ain't fair, he gets the worst part and you keep acting like you are the real victim because a boy doesn't love you. Fucking pathetic_.

Before he could even turn this in a situation in which he would become the one that needed to be comforted, Merriell suggested: “Wanna go and drink somethin'?” It looked like Romie was about to say no. So Merriell added: “It's on me.”

*** * ***

“And now I have to learn to do everythin' all over again. With my left hand.” Romie explained after his sipped his coffee. Not the greatest but far better than the poison they drank during the war. “And it's not easy. Shavin', tyin' my shoes, writin'. Those things were easy. They are not anymore. And I am tryin' my best. But it's not enough. They are not hirin' veterans like me.” Romie brushed his floppy hair away from his forehead. With mournful tone, he concluded: “I can't have a family when I can't even support myself, Merriell.” And anyone from their platoon could tell that if there was something Romie wanted, was a family with three children. Five if he found a great job. Clearly not the case.

Merriell was familiar with that sensation: _disenchantment_. Expect your life to be a certain way, and then become a sad and dull replica of what you really wanted. Like expecting a wonderful boy with red hair and sweet smile to kiss you in the morning and caress your arms until you fell asleep, and just get a cup of coffee and a couple of doubtful looks. And in the same way Merriell regretted being such a coward and let every opportunity pass each time he had the time to talk to Eugene, he asked Romie, far too low: “Do you regret?”

“Huh?” he turned his head. He barely heard a thing with his right ear.

Merriell repeated his question, louder this time.

After a very long pause, he denied: “No.” he caressed his right shoulder, where it ended. “Babies don't belong in war. Nor do civilians. How desperate she had to be after seein' that no one wanted to save her baby?” he sighed, as there was something he couldn't deny: that moment of kindness brought him terrible consequences: “But if I could change something, then I would try to take the baby with my left arm.”

Romie smiled a little bit and Merriell thought there should be medals for kindness.

*** * ***

Eugene truly thought that Lou would get mad at him. That she would ask him to leave after he apologized. But she decided to be _mature_. She accepted his apology but she also said: “I am going to mind my business. Starting _today_.” And that meant she was not going to be their messenger anymore. If they had to talk something, they should act like proper adults and speak. Give advice? Well, yes. But only because she loved to pretend she knew everything about romance and good decisions. She also told him that they should have a drink, and perhaps see how Eugene could finally bring the subject up.

Lou held the door open for him before she whispered something he didn't manage to catch. He felt her happiness before he could turn and take a look at her: “Look, Eugene, that's Merry over there.” she whistled pretty loudly, and far too many people turned. Eugene wanted to shush her but he was growing used to her and her lack of manners.

Merriell waved from the other side, acknowledging their presence.

“Come on” she held his arm and began pulling.

Eugene didn't move and parted his lips, feeling nervous once again. He just saw him this morning!

She turned and blinked, confused. “What? What's wrong?”

The young man didn't know how to explain her that now that he was aware that Merriell knew that he refused to write to him, he felt highly inadequate. And guilty. And frustrated. And all those words that kept repeating in his head, like those were the only ones that could define him. He looked down and swallowed thickly.

“Take it easy, Eugene. It will be alright.” she rubbed his arm, gently. Of course she could see this made no sense. Merriell looked heartbroken the other day when he thought he hurt Eugene. How could he be scared that Merry would do so _on purpose_? “And if you feel weird, kick my leg under the table and we'll leave.”

But, hopefully, they would _talk_.

They _had_ to talk.

Eugene nodded and Lou held his hand guiding him towards Merriell's table, slipping between the chairs and the costumers, pushing them a bit each time her legs wouldn't fit. Eugene apologized for her when she was given bad looks.

“Hey!” she chirped when they arrived to the most hidden corner of the café. Through the large windows, the sunlight became even far more intense, making it too warm to still keep their jackets on. Merriell could be both an alligator or a house cat, in that moment. The two of them enjoyed the Sun just as much. He smoked lazily after they managed to get two chairs before they even had the time to cross the whole establishment. “What are you doin' 'ere?” he asked to Lou before he called his name. Eugene was _still_ not so used to it. His stomach twisted a little bit when he patted the seat by his right.

Eugene sat down and decided to not comment how that was the worst spot because he could barely keep his eyes open, having to squint all the time. Lou had to go around the table, slipping between the other boy (a veteran, considering that one of his arms was missing) and a stranger from the following table. When she sat with her back towards the Sun, Eugene tried to use her shadow in his favor to keep himself from going blind.

“Eugene came for a visit and I didn't wanna go straight home.” she explained briefly before she raised her eyebrows, silently asking Merriell to introduce them.

Merriell nodded before he raised his arm to call for the waitress. He solved the issue briefly: “Eugene Sledge, Lulu LeBlanc.” Lou corrected him but Merriell absolutely ignored her. “Robert Romero. We were in the same company.”

Romie smiled a little bit and nodded. Eugene could tell that he felt slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps he still had to grow used to meet new people when he felt like he changed so much. It was Lou who broke the ice: she leaned forward and kissed both of his cheeks as a greeting. When she moved, Eugene was blinded once again, but he could tell that he blushed and became a little more nervous. It was then when he extended his hand towards Eugene. He shook it while smiling.

“You'll have to tell us all about the stupid things Merry did during the war. He won't say anythin' about it!” Lou beamed. And it was true. Merriell had been unable to share anything with anyone so far. And for some reason, that felt like a weight that was on Eugene's shoulders instead of his.

“Never did anything stupid in my life.” he snorted. Merriell pointed at the girl and asked: “Fruits rouges?” she nodded. Then he turned to look at Eugene and for a second he wanted him to know him enough to be able to tell. But Merriell always showed up in the morning when there was too little coffee left in his mug. “Sledge?”

So, of course, he didn't know: “White coffee.”

When the waitress finally arrived, Merriell gave the order for them. Eugene couldn't help but cherish how Merriell pronounced _café au lait_. It was foolish, but it did made him happy, for some reason. A little calmer. Like he was not ready to accuse him of anything, and getting what he wanted for him.

As always, Lou dominated the conversation. She drank her tea slowly, letting it cool down while she mainly focused on asking the shy veteran questions. When did he decide to join the Marines, that if boot camp was really that tough ( _my cousin said that they had a insufferable lieutenant in Camp Toccoa!_ ) and if he felt seasick. Then, when he started to speak a little bit more (he did look like he didn't expect she'd speak to him at all), she told him that he remembered seeing him dancing, once. Merriell was sure it was the same night that they had to get her out of the club before the war started. When she flattered him, he blushed even more but Romie smiled and thanked her.

Merriell finished his cigarette and rested his elbows over the table, crossing his wrists and letting his hands hang off the edge. She spoke in the background how they should go dancing together, so he could teach her some moves. And she was not very subtle, was she? Merriell smirked a little bit and decided to let those to talk. See how it goes. He turned his head a little bit and rested his chin on his right shoulder.

Eugene held his coffee with both hands, smiling against the rim while looking at the other two. Perhaps Lou being so impertinent helped him to relax with his own doubts. It was just fine. He didn't have to be constantly scared about being rejected. He was there. This was tremendously plain, and yet Eugene was enjoying it. Even if he was not talking or doing anything to save Romie from her never-ending questions.

Under the Sun, Eugene's hair was furiously red. There was nothing in this world he wanted to do more than extend his hand and run his fingers through those soft locks. Indulge himself and then trace the line of his jaw. Finally cup his chin and kiss him. Sit down closer to him, rest his arm over the back of his chair. Listen to Lou and her foolish questions, look at Romie blush and chuckle as he brushed his nose against Eugene's neck. He wanted him to be _his_ and to know he wasn't made him feel devastated.

It should be enough for him to be allowed to sit down by his side. Enjoy these months until life would separate them. Because life _will_ separate them. This was just... a little present. A poisonous present, but the only one that was given to him. How will he even live when he is no longer there in the early morning with his cup of coffee?

 _Talk to him, please_.

 _Say something, get those eyes on you. Please_.

Merriell licked his lips and began to shift on his seat. The part of his brain that usually tortured him was now pathetic and begging for some kindness. For some sympathy. And while he needed so desperately to speak to him, he ended up asking: “How was your day?”

Eugene seemed to be as surprised as he was. Merriell simply because he was impressed he had the guts to ask such a bland and stupid question. And maybe Eugene was taken aback that Merriell was the one who intiated the conversation. His eyes looked way more hazel in that light and _fuck_. _Holy fuck_. He didn't control himself when he leaned in, a little closer to Eugene. He tried again: “Did you have a good day?” Like that was any better. But this time Eugene seemed to be able to react properly to his question.

And he could tell Merriell that, _no, he didn't_. He found the picture and then thought he had the right to give Lou crap about it. He could tell him that he still reacted poorly and childishly when it came to him because he still didn't know how to handle the situation. He wanted to apologize. But Eugene was damn lucky that everybody in that table knew he had been in New Orleans for _years_ through Lou's picture and didn't bring it up. But that was something he didn't know, himself. How usual it is for soldiers to share the pictures of their beloved ones?

“It's getting better.” he replied, finally with a nod. He felt comfortable there. In a room full of people and yet not exposed or like they were looking at him. He wouldn't want to be anyone else in that moment. He smiled lightly, not knowing what that did to Merriell, who curled his fingers and exhaled, lowly. “Yours?”

How could not enjoy this little moment, when Eugene looked fucking angelic? When he was looking at him, giving his back to the rest of the world? When his eyes were on him, _only_? He would want more. So much more. But Merriell was forcing himself to not be so selfish.

“It's getting' better, yeah.” he grinned. And he hoped to God it came out as cheeky, like he was trying to mock him instead of being coy. Letting him know that him being there was enough to turn a shitty day into a fucking dream.

When Eugene snorted and shook his head a little bit, Merriell thought that _yeah_. He'd rather be arrogant than sincere.

*** * ***

Romie had the chance to finally talk when Lou let him. He told them about the whole _Snafu_ story, of how he got his nickname (for wanting to gamble instead of fight) and who gave it to him (Burgie). Then Romie added that _sometimes_ , before they projected films to keep the soldiers entertained, they showed a cartoon about a little soldier with terrible manners called Private Snafu. And that while that was not the origin of the nickname, everybody ended up assuming that was the origin since they both were rather small and stupidly crude.

From Merriell to Eugene. It was Lou who spoke for him and he let her. It was tremendously awkward to speak about yourself when you didn't feel like there was that much more to tell. She explained how he helped her out when she lost her fingers. How his gift helped her to feel so much better. And maybe he was only a bridge to let Romie know that losing a part of your body was complicated, and that while two fingers couldn't be compared to a whole arm, she had been ashamed of herself for quite some time. But that she had been doing better. And that if he needed help, he should get it.

And maybe it did work. Because Romie didn't look as uncomfortable as he did when they arrived. In fact, he seemed to be asmused. Or even a little endeared by her chatty nature. He looked at her right hand and even added: “I win.” before he looking at his shoulder. Lou shook her head and furrowed her nose, smiling.

Both of their spirits had a similar color.

* * *

They were walking behind those two. Merriell wanted to get Lou alone just to be able to tease her about her attitude during the whole afternoon. But hey, maybe it was him who was pointless, because she got Romie to talk and make jokes like he did before Okinawa. And he was walking by Eugene's side without saying a word.

Fuck, she is _truly_ winning.

Since he decided to visit Romie, he had to skip his nap at Mamaw's and he was exhausted. Sure, it had been worth it. Eugene looked beautiful in the sunlight and got to do something nice for someone he was fond of. But he wanted to sleep, as toxic and cruel his dreams were. He needed to close his eyes for a little while or he would pass out. Three hours (four if he was lucky) a day was truly not enough. Not anymore.

Merriell yawned and Eugene looked at him from the corner of his eyes.

And now he could see so much. The skin under his eyes was becoming a little darker, making his pale eyes stand out even more. His mannerism was not smooth or tempting in that moment, it was tired and lacking the energy he so needed and that he couldn't get through only coffee. No matter how warm or how sweet it was.

So Eugene felt a little tricked. By _himself_ , not by Merriell. Being so close to someone you were clearly so attracted to might make you miss reality.

“You are not getting any sleep, are you?” he asked, directly. Another sudden wave of bravery.

Merriell sighed and shrugged a little.

No. Of course he was _not_ sleeping. He would have heard. He would have had another nightmare. Eugene had to do something about it. But _what_? Last time he tried to wake him up, the consequences were quite terrible. Then...

“We are going to switch.”

“Switch, huh?”

“Yeah.” Eugene grumbled. Of course he was not sleeping! He had been _so_ dumb!

“Meanin'?”

“You are taking the bed and I move downstairs.”

“That couch ain't that comfortable, Sledge.”

“Tell me about it.” he still remembered that first night when he could practically feel Merriell in that bed with him. His face became warm.

“Don't wanna switch.” if they do, Merriell could tell that he would have the same problem but in a room soaked in Eugene's presence. How was he meant to survive that? Cold showers in February are not a good idea. He will _die_.

“Well, that's too bad, Merriell,” he was getting riled up: speaking quicker than usual. “because it's non-negotiable.”

And it was fucking _precious_ , really. Merriell always pictured his boy as someone confident, a little ruthless and very sincere. Sometimes a little mean. Rejection made him feel obsessive. Made him want them even more. That was the only reason why he became some obsessed with Gracie's words when he was only a teenager. And while Eugene did not reject him ( _not yet_ ), Merriell wanted so much more from him because he barely got _anything_. Because he was desperate to own him, body and soul, and because he could only walk by his side and let him scold him here and there. _Ah, fuck_. He'd give everything for one night. And let starve until the very last of his days. But this? This little game of getting him all frustrated until he would bark at him? It worked. By now, it did and made him feel satisfied. And he looked very damn pleased with himself when he said: “ _Feisty_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE: 
> 
> Private Snafu: "is the title character of a series of black-and-white American instructional adult cartoon shorts, ironic and humorous in tone, that were produced between 1943 and 1945 during World War II. The films were designed to instruct service personnel about security, proper sanitation habits, booby traps and other military subjects, and to improve troop morale. Primarily, they demonstrate the negative consequences of doing things wrong." Source Wikipedia
> 
> TRANSLATION:
> 
> M'ijo: Mi hijo, meaning “my son” in Spanish. Also used as “sweetie” or “darling”.  
> Fruits Rouges: Translated as “red fruits” in French. Berries: strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, etc.  
> Café au lait: Coffee with milk.


	13. Liturgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He barely had strength to call his name out loud. So he rested his hand on Merriell's forearm and squeezed, gently. When those green eyes were on him, Eugene mumbled: “Can I talk to you? Outside?”  
> That simple question made Merriell feel as nervous as Eugene was and he could almost feel like there was a small flame under that rusty spirit of his. Something like hope. Hope that, in the end, tasted just like fear, because things could always go wrong.
> 
> OR 
> 
> This starts with Merriell being hard for Eugene and ends up with Merriell being soft for Eugene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy about this because they finally talk and they, actually, have such good intentions. Their love is pure and I guess I'm a sucker for that kind of romance. So call me corny or whatever but this is a story of tender love even if everybody is pretty damn frustrated and sad and hey. They are all poor unfortunate souls, one way or another sOOOO...
> 
> Yeah! Mardi Gras! Boy, I did a little research and it looks great! So much fun. I hope I didn't butcher it.  
> I think it's actually next Tuesday, so that's MHMMMM convenient.  
> I kind of like this chapter... You /might/ enjoy it, hopefully!!  
> Thank you for your comments, kudos and kindness in general. Writing this story is making me so happy :)

**MARCH, 1946**

Merriell felt frustrated. And it was not the frustration that had been playing in the back of his mind ever since he came back home, _no_. It was a physical frustration. It was his body, tired and tight, wanting to be released. Wanting to have five minutes of joy, and then, in the afterglow, be able to have a decent rest. Let his limbs itch and his stomach burn, just to get the satisfaction that would manage to put a dopey smirk on his lips.

To put it simple: he wanted to _fuck_.

He barely could remember the last time it happened. The war faded any sort of good memory he had and those, that implied people he cared so little about, simply disappeared to leave more space to spilled guts and foreign flags. And the thing was that during those years he had been away, he barely _thought_ about it.

Alright, sometimes he did. And when he did it got pretty damn primitive. During boot camp they all behaved just to get to get the reward of having some free time during the weekends. Turns out that girls truly liked boys that were willing to die for their country. Some sort of heroism bullshit that Merriell never understood but that, surely, he made sure to take advantage of. So maybe that had been the last time he had sex. Once again, the very beginning of 1942. It's been four years.

 _Four_.

And now it seems like an eternity. But back there, in those fucking islands, sex did not seem to be part of their reality. At least, not his. He only thought about it when they entertained them with the same two or three films. Your classy guy from Hollywood that while being tough and rowdy, was too precious and important for the country to be shipped away and fight real battles. And then your beautiful dame, managing to create a well balanced trope: half femme fatale, half perfect wife. It all depends on which kind you like the most.

He remembered watching those films with great attention. With his fingers pressing against his thighs and barely blinking. They looked clean and untouched. Fucking pristine, if you will. Merriell usually felt out of place by smelling his own scent that reeked with sweat, salt and perhaps even pus, at some point. He felt so detached from his body that watching them kiss (with their lips closed and with him squeezing her against his face) made him feel like he was so far from that degree of humanity. He no longer felt like his body belonged to him. So he could only watch, obsess and perhaps even bark a crude comment ( _Think she's blonde down there?_ ) when he snapped out of it.

During the war, his body was not his own and that was the easiest way to understand that when he woke in the morning, hard and yet surrounded by death and stink, it was not that it was a thing he did willingly. His body was trying to find a way out. But his desire was not strong enough to win the match it had against the fear and loathing towards his situation. _Easy comes, easy goes_. He didn't even have to touch himself, because by the time he truly woke up and remembered where he was, his body deinflated and became a shell once again.

That didn't worry him until the war was over and they were taken to China, for six months. Then he had the time to do so. What if he never manages to get it up again? Well. No need to worry because his body was slowly becoming his once again. But he still didn't want to have sex with anyone. And it was easy to find release when you are a _war hero_. Merriell thought it was disgusting that you had to show a medal to get your cock sucked. Not when he remembered what he had to do to be able to get them.

Now, his body was not resting properly, but he was eating four times a day. So he had the energy to feel horny once again. And he almost wished he didn't because it was pretty damn hard to be around Eugene and not feel _anything_.

To begin with, that first night when he forced him to sleep on his bed became one of the worst experiences he ever had. Merriell didn't quite have the time to change the bedding and God. They smelled _wonderful_. They smelled just like him and Merriell was only human. He hugged the pillow and rubbed his stomach against the mattress. It goes without saying that he didn't get any sleep, and that the next morning, he carefully waited until Eugene would leave the house to get the shower, skipping their morning coffee ritual. He would spend more time there than usual. He wanted some _privacy_.

But did it help the fact that lived with him? No. Absolutely not. He wanted him. And when he thought about just going to a club and fuck whoever that would be interested enough to be around him, he felt guilty. That's insane. _Guilty_. Why? Eugene was quickly becoming the best thing in his miserable life. Did that mean that he owed him something? Fidelity? No. He never worried about those things. He never cared enough to be respectful. And now, this boy was giving him nothing at all and he was like his loyal dog.

 _It's so fucking stupid_.

He was desperate for that boy and he barely saw anything more than his hands and his neck. But that was before a couple of days before Mardi Gras, during the weekend. Merriell woke up tired. Once again, he slept poorly and barely more than a couple of hours. And not only because he simply couldn't sleep (he spent longer than a week keeping himself from falling asleep, and now that he somehow decided that he should, he _couldn't_ ), but because he arrived pretty late the previous night. Mardi Gras was the big _fat_ celebration (that's a bad joke), but it was always nice to see the parades after work during the whole week before that wild Tuesday. And after having dinner with Mamaw, Merriell decided to celebrate while Eugene headed back home. And he drank _a little_.

Not that he was hangover or anything. He was just tired in general. So when he walked downstairs and heard Lou's voice, he couldn't help but groan. Too much energy.

“Lulu, you ain't got no home.” he grumbled as he padded his way to the couch. When he allowed himself to fall over it and stop rubbing his eyes, he could see the picture properly. And, oh, God. Bless and curse that girl all that once.

She was standing in front of Eugene, with a measuring tape falling from her hands, those being close to his chest. His _naked_ chest. The boy was shirtless and Merriell didn't have it in him to pretend he was not beyond grateful for that view. He raised his eyebrows and then smirked, resting his cheek on his hand, staring. Literally _ogling_ him. Appreciating everything that he had.

His skin was pale. Pale in a way that screamed: _I have enough money to keep someone around just to hold a parasol for me_. He'd do that. He'd do that just to get to peek at the back of his neck and daydream about marking all of his teeth there. His arms were not too long; Eugene was not much taller than him. And Merriell smiled because there wasn't a single mark on him. Or a proper muscle. He was lithe and smooth and Merriell could hear himself hum.

And he probably looked like a creep because Eugene furrowed his nose and huffed, irritated. But he also blushed all the way down to his chest and Merriell even made himself comfortable on the couch just to keep looking. This would go against him in the long run. But at least he had something to focus on if he ever had to jerk off in the shower once again. Other wrists and collarbones that were truly not enough for him.

“What is this?” he finally asked, tremendously asmused.

“Eugene told me he wanted a costume for Mardi Gras.” she lied.

“She ripped my clothes off.” he confessed.

_Lucky, lucky girl._

“Oh, yeah? What is he gonna be?”

“We don't know yet.” Eugene didn't sound all too pleased as she scribbled on the little notebook she dropped on the coffee table. “I don't want to wear one of those masks. Or a full costume.” he was no longer eleven.

“You are no fun, Eugene.” she sighed. “But I told him I could make him a fancy jacket and hat.”

“Make those green and he'll look like one of those little irish bastards.”

“A leprechaun?”

“With the pots of gold.”

“Yes. _That_ 's a leprechaun, Merry.”

Merriell grinned, very satisfied with himself and even more when Eugene looked at him like he was about to take Lou's measuring tape and strangle him with it. He winked at him and Eugene huffed yet once again. “Shut up, Merriell.”

“So, what's it gonna be?” he insisted, not too concerned that he was beyond annoying at that point.

“The only character I know for wearing a hat is the Mad Hatter.” Eugene recalled reading that book when he was little and absolutely hated it. He didn't like it when things could be far too many at once. It made him feel stressed and distrust mirrors.

“That will do just fine.” Lou said before he could back down, measuring his narrow waist.

Eugene pressed his lips and knew he got himself into that situation by indulging her. But damn him if he was not going drag Merriell with him. “What about you?” he turned his head once again to look at him.

Merriell was nibbling his nails with his eyes on him. Eugene almost wanted to shiver, but he was not going to give him that satisfaction. The veteran snorted and said: “I'll be too busy getting drunk.”

“I have somethin' in mind for him.” Lou hummed, very pleased with herself. Eugene wanted to kiss her forehead.

“No fucking way, Lulu.”

“Oh, yes way!”

“What are you going to do to him?” Eugene asked, not having the decency to hide how happy he was about the fact that Merriell would be put through the same torture.

“He's gonna be Ghede Nibo.” she grinned, pointing at Merriell. Who quickly refused and shook his head. “C'mon! It would be fun!”

“ _No_.”

“Why not? It would be a funny joke!”

Eugene learned enough from Mamaw and knew that Ghebe Nibo was one of the mystères from the Loa and that he was adoped by Baron Samedi when he died. Other than that, he didn't know that much about him.

Lou filled him in on the information he was lacking: “When people saw Merry for the first time, when he was little, they were convinced that Mamaw asked Baron Samedi and Maman Brigitte to give her a son.”

“That sounds stupid.” Eugene huffed. People will truly believe anything.

“Glad we agree on that one, Sledge.”

“But you should totally do it, Lou.”

“ _Hey_!”

*** * ***

“I have to admit it, Lulu,” Merriell sighed when she showed up that morning, ready to get them dressed. “you make a cute _mime_.” With her face now painted with white it looked rounded and smooth as it did before he left. Maybe he felt a little nostalgic.

“I'm not a mime, I'm a _pierrot_!” she quickly corrected him as she looked down at her clothes: her frilly and baggy blouse was white and decorated with three large black buttons. Her pantaloons were far too big for her, but he guessed that was how it was supposed to look like. “Anyway! Let me help you out or you'll never be ready!” she said before she walked past him, carrying a bag with her.

He could hear Eugene cooing from the living room. Lou hushed him and Merriell laughed.

Once they stopped messing with her, they became her dolls. She undressed and dressed them up. And Merriell was a little sad that he didn't get to see Eugene shirtless a second time. When Lou helped him wear his chequered jacket (purple and green, _of course_ ), he thought he looked foolish and funny, but good. Eugene always looked good.

“You did this, yourself?” he asked a little surprised, touching the golden details on his right sleeve as she did his buttons.

Lou grinned and nodded. “Yep.” she sure looked proud of herself. “Everythin'. All by myself.” she then gestured at her own costume.

“You could do this for a living.” Eugene told her and she looked even happier. When she put the large purple hat on top of his head. He would have asked her to remove the peacock feather, but something told him she wouldn't even listen to him. So he didn't, because she had been careful enough to do her research and put the proper label with a large _10/6_ written on it.

“That would be the dream.” she replied and took a step back at look at him. “You look great!”

“ _And_ foolish, I bet.”

“That's the idea!” she insisted. It was clear she had been waiting for this day for years. “Merry.” she made a move so he would approach.

When she pulled a riding coat that had black roaster feathers on the shoulders. She sure loved plain things, huh? “Ghede Nibo doesn't _wear_ purple.”

“It's _magenta_ , and you are not Ghebe Nibo because you didn't want to be.” she quickly corrected him.

“What am I, then?”

“A crazy bastard that just _won't_ die.”

Yeah, that... That makes a lot of sense.

Merriell shrugged and started to take off his shirt and threw it to the couch. He could always pick it up when they would be back.

“Oh, wow.” Lou mumbled and Eugene frowned a little bit.

“What?” Merriell asked, looking down at his naked arms. He always had the habit to be shirtless. All the time. He had been keeping his clothes on to trick Eugene into thinking that he could, also, be a classy guy even if he didn't own a dressing gown.

She pointed at his left shoulder; at the bullet scar. He rubbed the pinkish flesh and rolled his arm a little bit. It didn't hurt, anymore. It only bothered him from time to time.

“That's Peleliu, girlie.” he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. Lou understood the gesture and helped him to wear his jacket and his top hat.

Eugene looked at him, still. He licked his lips and pressed them in a sympathetic smile when Merriell's eyes landed on him. He wanted his mouth close to his scars. Those ones that were on his body and the ones that weren't, as well.

*** * ***

They visited Mamaw to have breakfast with her and so Lou could show off. The old woman squeezed her shoulders and she looked like a little girl that had been praised by her own loving mother. And that was funny because before they left, Mamaw gave Merriell a cigar and a bottle of white rum and encouraged him to curse as much as possible.

Eugene chuckled at the idea of seeing his mother doing something that.

*** * ***

They arrived quite early but the streets were crowded, already. It reminded him of Victory Day. The second one. The one over Japan when the war was over, for sure, and everybody was thrilled that they beloved ones would be finally back. It's been six months then, and Eugene could feel a very similar vibrating feeling of pure bliss around him.

None of them was awfully tall, even if the two boys were pretending with their funny hats. Eugene was the tallest and he still had to stand on his tiptoes, not managing to see that much either way.

“Can't see anythin'!” Lou huffed.

“Want me to raise you up?” Merriell offered. He was only slightly taller than he was. Perhaps an inch.

“No, no, no.” she denied, quickly.

Merriell was about to try to shove his head between his thighs to just to piss her off. But then he saw a spot they could take, where they would be able to see what was going on, at least. He grabbed Lou's hand and Eugene's arm and began to pull them, slipping among the people that were too busy dancing, cheering or drinking.

“What do you want me to do?” Lou frowned when they were in front of the street light right on the corner between St Peter and Burbon street.

“Climb.” he said with his hands already on her waist, raising her up.

She huffed but did so, finally standing on the thick pole base made of concrete, holding onto the street light.

“Now you.” Merriell said as he pushed Eugene closer to the street light.

“This is ridiculous.” he said, squirming a bit when Merriell rushed him to join Lou up there.

“And we are short, so we have to make it work.”

It was complicated: the three of them standing there, holding onto a street light and having to dodge the strings of beads and trinkets that were thrown at their direction because Lou wouldn't stop roaring _Throw me somethin', Mister!_ At some point, they also had to make sure she wouldn't fall while trying to catch as many of those as possible.

And as stressing and as uncomfortable as it was... It was _wonderful_. The music was wonderful; Merriell hummed and shook his shoulders, tickling him with those black feathers. The floats were impressive; he told him which ones he helped to create, pointing ahead them with the neck of the bottle Mamaw gave him. Eugene smiled the whole time and he even asked him what he had to do exactly. And Merriell told him, over the never-ending jazz that made everybody dance.

The whole experience was far better than anything he ever lived in Mobile, and it was clear that it was because Merriell was right there, glued to his side. Eugene made sure to chase the warmth Merriell's hands left over the metallic surface, just to feel closer to him. Merriell wouldn't look away as he spoke. Neither he did when he fell silent. He continued to look at him and Eugene thought, in that moment, that he really wanted Merriell to keep looking at him during the whole day.

*** * ***

Finding a place to eat had been a nightmare _._ For a moment Eugene was about suggest that they could always go back to Mamaw's and come back. But they bumped into Phyllis and Judith before they could do so. Neither of them were wearing a costume and the blonde girl looked rather displeased that they thought that approaching them had been a good idea. In fact, she almost complained out loud when Judith said that they should join them before she quickly told Lou that she looked like an adorable little pierrot. The girl looked rather pleased that she could guess her costume, at least.

In the background, Lou kept asking Judith why they weren't wearing a disguise. Turns out that she had a long shift at the hospital. And she did not celebrate Mardi Gras because she did not atone during Lent. Lou looked devastated but Judith continue to explain her that she would have her fun during Purim in a couple of weeks. Eugene listened to the both of them for a little while. He missed working at the hospital with Judith. She had a very soothing and beautiful spirit.

“Eyes on me, boy.” Phyllis huffed, liting her cigarette.

Eugene smiled a little bit and shrugged: “I see you are having fun.”

“Always am.” she blew the smoke in his face and Eugene coughed a little.

Phyllis leaned forward and Eugene absolutely regretted sitting down in front of her. They were friends, sure. But she had a wicked sense of humor. But he still learned plenty from her. “That your boy?” she asked, looking at Merriell, who was currently trying to get their order. He always felt responsible to get their food and their drinks. Eugene couldn't understand why. But he would. He would know him enough to be able to understand.

Eugene nodded a little bit before clearing his throat. “I mean. No. Yes _and_ no.”

Phyllis nodded and took another drag before she answered: “ _Enough_.” she always understood. “You got a terrible taste, but _hey_.” She has never been able to see what was so irrisistible about _men_ , anyway.

“Have you two fucked, yet?” Phyllis asked, with a low voice but straightforward.

Eugene was not used to deal with someone who spoke like her. He was unable to answer, just gape at her.

“I guess _not_.” she grinned. “You want to?” she raised her pale eyebrows and Eugene had to move back, unable to answer that question. But the fact that his cheeks now matched his hair was revealing enough. “I'll take that as a yes.” she chuckled a little bit.

“So what?” he grumbled, a little defensive.

“Find out if he wants to and do it.” Phyllis shrugged.

Eugene knew it wouldn't be so _easy_. He didn't want... He did want to have intimacy with Merriell. He didn't know _how_ and he didn't want it to mean _nothing_. Perhaps he was a romantic or perhaps far too religious, but he didn't really understand sex as just that: fun and pleasure. He wanted it to be the culmination of romance. Even more if it was meant to happen with Merriell. “It's not _so_ easy.”

“Want me to find out?”

“ _How_?”

She just winked and Eugene had no time to add anything because Merriell came back, grumbling and saying that this was the worst part of Mardi Gras: people being fucking _everywhere_. He sat down awfully close to Eugene, because there was hardly room for a fifth person at that table. Lou and Judith just kept going, with the younger girl now showing the other everything she caught during the morning parades.

“Lou spoke to me about you.” Phyllis said with a small grin playing on her lips. “You seem to be something like an older brother to her.”

“ _Hardly_.”

“How grand. An older brother to Lou and a good friend to Eugene.” and she was speaking a little bit weird. Very unlike her. And so it was unlike to reach out for her to caress Eugene's cheek with the back of her hand, smoking with the other one.

“What's your name, again?” Merriell asked and pushed himself closer to Eugene, who didn't have that much space anymore, between his chest and the wall.

“Phyllis Gilmore.”

“Well, _Phyllis_ , sure as shit we are good friends.” and for some reason, something that was meant to be positive did sound like a bit of a threat.

The young woman smiled and leaned back before placing the cigarette between her lips once again, winking at Eugene as a very casual: _There you have the answer_.

Turns out that Phyllis and Merriell had very similar energies: both of them far too bold and reckless to sound polite or even try to be bearable for other people. And they did bicker about plenty of things during their lunch that was ignored by everybody else.

Eugene was rather quiet, still overthinking: did that mean that he liked him? That he wanted to... Well. That he _desired_ him?

That made him feel good. Good and intimidated at the same time.

When they were about to leave, Phyllis held his arm and whispered on his ear: “Remember what I told you a few years ago?” Eugene nodded. Those words began to lighten a very dark path he used to be _terrified_ of. In a way, he still was. “Maybe _today_ is the day to be brave.”

*** * ***

He started to drink during the afternoon. He would need a little help to be brave, that night. He wanted to tell him many things. The important ones. And Eugene knew himself: he would try to find a way out and pretend that the problem or the chance he had didn't exist at all.

Merriell made fun of him while they watched the last parades. Everything was becoming a little bit of a blur of purple, green and yellow. He saw wide smiles and funny hats everywhere. Sometimes people were half-human, half-animal, and for a second he truly thought: _finally_ _made it to Wonderland_. That was when he decided he had _enough_. His feet were light as Lou and Merriell led him to the ball. Of course they would go to some party. Lou was not going to pass the chance to dance. And he hated it! He absolutely hated it.

Eugene grumbled a bit as Lou sat him down and went to get him some water to sober him up. He felt the weight of Merriell's hands over his shoulder and mumbled: “I'm really not _that_ drunk.”

“Sure thing, Sledge.” he replied, grinning, and looking terribly amused.

“I'm really not.” he tried once again. Sure, he slurred his words a little but his mind was with him. He knew what he had to say. The alcohol simply destroyed the limits of shame and fear.

Lou returned and gave him the glass of water. Told him to sip it slowly. Then she smooched his cheek and _left_. He felt a little bit betrayed but when he saw Romie there... It was obvious. Everybody was falling in love and he wanted to be loved, as well. So, yes. Sober up a little bit and then _talk_. Merriell smoked (he saved the cigar and the bottle of white rum was on the table) and didn't leave his side at any moment.

His glass was empty and Eugene took his hat off. He couldn't possibly try to speak to him while looking like a buffoon, right? And because he was nervous, he knew that he was drunk, but not drunk enough to be mindless. He was in the middle between courage and stupidity. He would never get a better chance. He looked at Merriell from the corner of his eyes, and he looked distracted, trying to follow Lou's white clothes. Make sure she wouldn't end up hurt. But once again, it was _Romie_ , not a bastard that could eat her up and spit her out.

Eugene needed ten solid minutes to convince himself. To push himself to do something he could as well ignore. But no. Phyllis was right. Tonight, he had to be brave. Take that first step even if he thought he was going to fall into the abyss.

He barely had strength to call his name out loud. So he rested his hand on Merriell's forearm and squeezed, gently. When those green eyes were on him, Eugene mumbled: “Can I talk to you? Outside?”

That simple question made Merriell feel as nervous as Eugene was and he could almost feel like there was a small flame under that rusty spirit of his. Something like hope. Hope that, in the end, tasted just like fear, because things could always go _wrong_.

“Yeah.” Merriell finally answered as he stood up. They left their hats there. Someone would probably steal them and Lou would feel insulted, but none of them were too concerned about that, at the moment.

As they walked, Merriell's hand was cupping his left elbow, like he was expecting Eugene to trip or fall. Once again: he was drunk, but not _that_ drunk. But he didn't try to push him away or repeat himself. Eugene walked to the back of the building and Merriell followed him. He saw him crossing his arms and resting his back against the brickwall. Eugene stood in front of him. Two steps between them, and playing with his hands.

“I've... been wanting to talk to you for a while...” he began. That was not too bad. He could continue in that tone. “But I didn't know how... Or when.”

“Maybe you are a little too drunk, now.” Merriell replied, terrified that everything he might say now would be too meaningful and yet, at the same time, mean nothing because he was intoxicated.

Eugene shook his head: “I'm the perfect amount of drunk, trust me.”

Merriell grinned. _Funny boy_.

The silence between them was filled by the muffled music of the orchestra. He couldn't recognize the piece, but he sure could appreciate that the trumpets and drums were not going to abandon him and make him far more aware of the time he was taking to tell him what he wanted to say.

“So, what is it, Sledge?” and there was patience in his voice.

Eugene felt a little better about himself and took it as encouragment. As a way to continue: “I want you to _trust_ me.” And that sounds easy, right? It sounds easy when it's tremendously complicated. “I want you to think of me as someone you can trust and lean on.”

Merriell stayed in silence. He simply looked at him.

So Eugene decided to keep going. Just keep going. “I understand if you don't see me as a friend, yet. But I want to help you.” That had been his purpose all along. And now that Merriell was here, it made _sense_. It did, in a way. “I think... I think I can help you.” he licked his lips and shrugged a bit. “It's what I do with other people whenever I can. I want to be able to help you too.” Because Merriell was hurting. Because he felt tormented. Because sometimes his mind ran away to those sad memories. Because his soul was the very clear evidence that war was cruel and unfair and mutilated them all, in one way or another. Eugene looked up at him and repeated one last time: “I want to help you. If you let me.”

Merriell barely blinked. He looked at him and Eugene was unable to tell what he was feeling, at that moment. It was like he became a blank page. And he wanted to know so much more about him. When he spoke once again, his voice was smooth and calm: “Why?”

“Why?” Eugene repeated.

“Yeah, _why_?”

“It would be a good way for you to start heal—”

“Why do you _want_ to help me.” Merriell insisted, raising his voice a little bit. “Not why you _should_.”

Eugene rubbed the back of his neck and pressed his lips. He knew why he wanted to help him. And could say it. He could say it now, and if it was foolish, then he could blame him on the alcohol. And _pretend_ once again. “I care about you.” he confessed.

That started a riot in Merriell's heart. It started beating way faster, making his blood warm and forcing his limbs to move. He took a step forward and he placed his hands on his waist. He stepped to the side and then to the other, his own body chocking him with an energy that should be directed towards approaching Eugene. Hugging him. Thanking him. Fuck, kissing him if possible. But instead, he decided to be decent. Act like a person, for once. Merriell cleaned the corners of his lips with his hand, feeling his mouth dry.

Eugene said he cared about him. And Merriell wanted to believe him. On the other hand...

“Why didn't you write to me?”

Okay. The hardest question.

Eugene was truly hoping he would manage to skip it. But... “I did.” he mumbled. “I just didn't know what to say.”

“Sledge, _come on_.” Merriell was willing to forgive him. No matter how cheap his excuse would be. But he wouldn't accept a lie. Not that. Not from him.

“I couldn't finish them.” And he lost count how many he wrote. Twenty? Thirty? Forty? More? Who knows, anymore. “I kept them all.” he shrugged a bit. “I wanted to send a letter that would make you think that... that you... that I...” Eugene hated it when he couldn't express himself properly. “That I could be... what you _needed_. Or... I don't know.” he shrugged and sighed. Fuck, maybe he should go back inside, drink a little more and then come back. “I barely knew what I was doing. Who I was. Or what I had to do. And then, when I started to understand, I was scared that maybe it was too late? Or that it was... Or that you wouldn't...” he felt defeated. “I don't know, Merriell, I really don't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I should have sent something. _Anything_.” He was always such a coward.

Eugene covered his eyes with one hand and his other arm wrapped around his stomach. Merriell he would literally drop dead in that same spot if he cried because of him. So he took yet another step forward and grabbed Eugene's arm, squeezing. “ _Hey_.” But Eugene wouldn't show him his face and he grew anxious. _No. Please don't. Don't cry_. “Gene.” his voice was tender and sweet when he pulled him a little closer, unable to use his surname anymore.

The boy took a deep breath and finally lowered his hand. He didn't shed any tears, but his eyes were watery and red, because he rubbed his fingers against them. His eyelashes were moist and pressed his teeth tightly against his lower lip before he denied. “I was so lost.” and he found his way, yes. But maybe it took far too long and on the expense of Merriell's suffering. It didn't feel _fair_. “And angry, at first. And then sad. And then scared. And then... And now... I don't want to feel lost again. I don't want to go back to the beginning again. I want to help you. I want to be there for you.”

No one ever told him that. Merriell wanted to burst into tears and thank him. And tell him that he is the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. That his soul must had been made out of silver. And he looked at him like he was worth _everything_. The loneliness he felt as a child. The desolation during the war. The anger during peace. Everything, just to end up there, with him.

“I mean...” Merriell cleared his throat. “Yeah, I'll be your friend but don't you start cryin', huh?” he tried to smirk, but his lips trembled. Eugene chuckled, low and sincere. He was _his_ , already. As a friend or as whatever he wanted him to be. He was all his.

And then, when he already felt blessed enough, he was given a little more. Eugene's arms around his shoulders were weightless. And he hated Lou for giving them foolish jackets. He wanted to feel Eugene's light shirt over his flesh. Just soft cotton between them and nothing else. But the girl was the last person he was thinking about when Eugene was hugging him. Merriell tried to tell himself that he didn't deserve this. That Eugene was, still, too good for him. That he had been destroyed and reduced to violent beast. That if he was kind and generous enough, he would ask Eugene to leave. To go back to his parents and live his best life away from him. But he wanted to have something _good_ in his life. He wanted _Eugene_ to be in his life. Forever. Or until he would get tired and leave. But he wanted to have a few memories with him. That was all he was asking for. And this, a hug at the end of the day, while wearing stupid costumes, could be the very first one.

He held him back. Eugene didn't complain when Merriell's arms started to press tightly around his waist. Mamaw always told him that his boy, _the gentle spirit_ , would have _a humming heart and healing hands_. And while he still didn't know what that first part meant, he could understand the second one. It felt like Merriell had been covered in open wounds; oozing and hurting. And wherever Eugene touched him (with his chest against his, his right hand between his shoulder-blades and the left one over the back of his neck) it simply stopped aching. Like he had been bathed in salve. How to not embrace him so close to him when his only presence could soothe him so much?

It had to be survival instinct or _something_. To want to keep those that do you good close. It _had_ to be.

And he didn't react in the way he expected himself to react because even if he had been obsessing about the idea of being close to Eugene, he didn't feel ravenous. He didn't want to take this any further than enjoying the tender embrace of a kind soul. He wanted to find shelter in Eugene. Let him heal him and look after him. There would be plenty of other moments for that. Merriell told himself that Eugene would stick around for a while. That everything he said tonight, he meant it. No matter if he was a little tipsy. This was real and Merriell was lucky.

Perhaps, the only thing he did to take advantage of the situation was turn his head a little bit, until his nose touched his jaw. What's his scent? Now that he had been around him for almost a month, he was a little more used to that new smell. At first he thought about something sweet, tender. Something like a peach. Ripe and rich. But then something else. And Merriell tried and tried to find what it was. And then, perhaps, it was pine or something else, but strong and steady.

He breathed him in and sighed. Before he could help himself, he asked: “Can I read them?”

Maybe he regretted asking because Eugene leaned back, even if it was to stand close to him. After a few seconds of doubt and silence, Eugene nodded a bit. “They are yours.” all of them had his name. “Just wait until I pass out.” and Eugene knew he was not so drunk to forget everything he said in the morning. But he could always pretend a little bit and try not to feel embarrassed for everything he asked Merriell in those letters. Thank _God_ he never said anything too... romantic. Or too desperate.

Merriell smiled so brightly that Eugene was even impressed he was capable of such honest and sincere happiness. “Won't take you much. You are a _lightweight_ , Gene.”

*** * ***

They finished their night with a couple of drinks more. Romie promised to walk Lou back home and Merriell trusted him. So they left them dancing cheek to cheek as he made sure that Eugene wouldn't trip since the boy kept swaying. Of course, survive the cajun Mardi Gras experience absolutely sober was simply _impossible_. For a second he was almost scared that Eugene would fall into the bayou when he helped him to get on the damn pirogue.

It was a miracle they arrived home safe and sound, without leeches on their forearms or frogs tickling their shins.

As they made it inside of the house, Eugene was leaning all of his weight against Merriell's side. And he didn't mind. At all. He wrapped his arm around his waist and helped him to go upstairs before the redhead would think that crawling was the best idea to conquer the stairs. When Eugene saw the bed, he didn't have it in him to remind Merriell that they switched, and that this was no longer his room. He simply collapsed, face down and rubbing his cheek against the pillow. He hummed, enjoying something that terrified him the first day he arrived to New Orleans.

Merriell took his jacket and shoes off in the best way he could. Eugene grumbled a bit, just wanting to sleep. Merriell caressed his arm over the blankets and licked his lips before he asked, softly: “Where are the letters?” he wanted to read them _so_ bad.

“Mhmm...?”

“Your letters, Gene.” he insisted a little bit. He could wait until tomorrow but... he didn't want to. Maybe he even couldn't.

Eugene stirred a little bit and let one of his arms fall from the bed. He pointed underneath it. “Suitcase.”

And the detail that the suitcase had been there ever since he moved downstairs had been his mistake. He felt so overwhelmed with Merriell's presence and so stressed with their strange relationship, that the fact that he slept on top of his secret every night didn't even cross Eugene's mind.

Merriell got on his knees and slipped his arm under the bed, grabbing the suitcase and pulling it out. It was a little heavy, but as soon as he opened it, he saw that he kept his typewriter there. He remembered all those letters he got from Mamaw that she clearly didn't write but obviously dictated (even if Eugene softened the woman's speech, making them far more bizarre and unlike her). He left it aside.

There were, roughly, fifty letters. Not all of them had an envelope, some of them folded and others simply tossed there with just a couple of lines. But he wrote his name over and over again: _Merriell, Dear Merriell, to Merriell Shelton_. It depended on how daring he felt when he started writing.

And just to be able to enjoy it more, Merriell made sure to check all the dates before reading anything. From September, 1944 to January, 1946. By the time he was done, Eugene was drooling over the pillow. He sat down on the floor, with one hand he picked the letters and held them, and the other rested over Eugene's back. He could only feel the texture of the blankets, but his even breathing soothed him.

And while Merriell had been sleeping very poorly ever since he came back (he either simply couldn't or he ended up waking up, deeply disturbed by memories and nightmares, so... nothing _new_ ), his soul finally had a _rest_ that night.

He cared.

Eugene cared about him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE: 
> 
> Pierrot: "is a stock character of pantomime and commedia dell'arte whose origins are in the late seventeenth-century Italian troupe of players performing in Paris and known as the Comédie-Italienne. The defining characteristic of Pierrot is his naïveté: he is seen as a fool, often the butt of pranks, yet nonetheless trusting." Source Wikipedia.  
> Purim: “is a Jewish holiday that commemorates the saving of the Jewish people from Haman, who was planning to kill all the Jews. The story is recorded in the Biblical Book of Esther. Masquerading is one of the customs of this festivity.” Source Wikipedia.


	14. Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then, they had dinner. Eugene cherished those little moments. They ate and told Mamaw about their day. She always scolded them, for one reason or another. At first, Eugene thought that she was an unreasonable woman, bitter and distant. But it was easy to see that it was a facade. That the very much feared Madame Mercier loved them far more she would ever dare to say out loud.  
> He completely forgot about the storm, and he didn't remember until the first thunder crossed the sky and make the walls of the hut shake with the echo. By that time, Eugene was trying to remove a splinter from Merriell's index finger (he always came back home with plenty of those due his job at the sawmill). And because Merriell had his hand on his lap, he could see how his body became hard and tense with that thunderous noise. He grabbed Eugene's hand and squeezed his fingers tightly, wincing under his breath.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Eugene might not have a healing dick, but he sure has healing hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES! I really wanted to write this scene and maybe it's a little bit lame, but I had fun and I feel kind of proud that I managed to finally post this chapter. It was one of the first scenes I had planned in my mind when I started writing this story! Things are getting way better between these two and I love casual intimacy. So, there you go. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos and all those who followed my blog. I appreciate the fact you are still reading this with my bad English and terrible plot. Love you all!!
> 
> Enjoy!!

A chirping bird woke him up.

Eugene rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and groaned a little bit. His head felt heavy and his throat a little dry. He needed both of his hands to raise chest from the mattress. His legs moved under the blankets before he noticed that they were trapped under a warm weight. Eugene looked down and found Merriell, with his arms crossed over his thighs and his cheek resting over his forearms.

He wanted to stretch his limbs. Arch his back and yawn. Hopefully he would be able to solve his hangover with some coffee. But he didn't want to wake him up. So he twisted his upper body a little bit and placed a hand on Merriell's head. His curls were messy and tangled. The texture of his hair strong and a little coarse. He remembered that foolish anecdote when a simple brush made him cry. Now Merriell was practically hugging onto the back of his knees and he felt nothing but a gentle and peaceful joy. Like nothing was out of place. Like he was meant to be there.

But the bird chirped once again. And then poked the glass of the window with his little beak.

“Shhh...” Eugene placed a finger over his lips.

He knew that bird. _The sparrow_. He had been visiting since Christmas and, apparently, he was still around. Last summer, Eugene bought a bird feeder and hang it on the window of the room that used to be his. Now, it was Merriell's again. And he assumed that the other boy would simply remove the bird feeder or that he would forget about fill it. Eugene understood that it wasn't all that pleasing to hear bird noises every morning, even when you had nowhere else to be other than your own bed. So he raised his yead a little bit and saw that the bird feeder was full. That Merriell did, in fact, take care of that for some reason.

Eugene ran his fingers through Merriell's curls with tenderness and gratitude. Little things that sure mean the world to him.

The sparrow was not leaving. He scraped his beat against the glass and chirped one last time.

Merriell could use some sleep. Even in that position, and using his legs as a pillow, that would make his bones regret it as soon as he would stand up, it was still better than nothing.

“Shhh!” he leaned forward in the best way he could to try to poke the glass with his other hand. He didn't want to scare him off but between Merriell and a sparrow then... The boy. And that was quite unusual. Eugene was a bird lover. If things had been any different for him, he would have tried to make a living based on studying them.

But things ended up going this way. And he didn't feel like he could regret anything in that very moment.

When Eugene almost managed to touch the window, Merriell stirred on his lap. Eugene froze and looked down at him. Merriell smiled lazily, with his eyes open. Wasn't that funny? A little sparrow trying to scare another away. Merriell felt tempted to caress his legs, get on top of him, call him _mon petit moineau_ and kiss him breathless. Instead, he asked: “That a friend of yours, Gene?”

“I wouldn't say that much.” he replied, sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Wasn't sleepin'.” he denied. Merriell was still not letting go and Eugene still had his hand on the top of his head. After a small second, he added: “You write beautifully, y'know?”

Eugene panicked for a second. He didn't really remember that much after they left the ball. But he did remember Merriell asking permission to read the letters he wrote but didn't finish or send. They were all carefully ordered inside of his suitcase now. “ _Uh_.” he cleared his throat and nodded, unable to stomach that compliment.

“I could tell you which one is my favourite.” he was now teasing by the way he smirked.

“Please, don't.”

“Oh, but there are a few that really show how done you were with livin' in here _all alone_. And how Mamaw hit you with her wooden spoon that one time wh—”

“I'd love it if you stopped right there, really.”

“We've all been hit with the wooden spoon at some point. Doesn't make you a _bad boy_ , Gene. Heaven is still an option for you.”

“Is it an option right now?”

“My, you make it sound like you really want to die.”

“Honestly? A little.” Eugene huffed and Merriell chuckled. He couldn't help but smile, feeling happy that he finally made it. Finally found a common ground for the both of them. “Come on, get off the floor.” he moved his hand from his hair, but Merriell was far more stubborn than that. He put his hand back where it was and wrapped his arms around his legs, trapping them under the blankets. “Am I a prisoner now?”

Merriell looked up at him, with no intentions to let him go.

“I thought that Marines didn't make prisoners.”

“Mhmm...” Merriell hummed lazily as he grinned with his chin over Eugene's knees.

“A good Marine would give me the chance to have a _fair fight_.” Eugene couldn't help but end up smiling, as well.

“I never said I was a _good_ Marine.”

“Which was your rank?”

“Corporal.”

“That's... What? A _little_ better than being a private?”

Eugene was teasing him back and Merriell absolutely loved it. “The difference between a private and a corporal is _big enough_.”

“I don't know, Merriell. It sounds like you used that excuse before...”

“You wanna hear about it?” there was a hint of lust lingering on his tongue. Eugene could even see it when he licked his lower lip, looking bright against his white teeth.

“It's _Ash Wednesday_. Have some respect.” Eugene snorted and denied. He wouldn't be able to resist it.

*** * ***

Romie was almost sweating. Lou was wrapped around his arm, looking up at him and smiling. Mamaw shook her head and snorted. _Foolish girl_. Look at her practically worshipping that broken boy.

“C'mere.” the old woman made a move with her hand. There she was, looking like a symbol of power and power, sitting on her old fauteuil pomare. Something like a queen who was still in touch with everything that was forbidden and dead.

Romie told her that he was not... _fond_ of those practices. His mother told him all about _Santería_. And how badly it turned out for some people. And how he should stay away from that kind of magic. Lou caressed his arm and released him.

She was a blessing, really. She smiled brightly and she was always in the mood for dancing. He liked her. He liked her a lot but he also knew that he was no longer fitting to become anyone's husband. Not until he would _feel_ useful. Not only he would find a job. He didn't want to become a burden when she was so hopeful and so energetic. He didn't want his problems to drain her.

Romie finally sat down by her side, turning a bit so she could take a proper look on him. Lou had been trying to convince him to talk to Eugene. That it would help him. That he could soothe anyone's spirit. He wanted to try. He wanted to do better. Feel better. Become the man he once was: chipper and gentle. Be everything she could want and more. Was it so stupid to _only_ want a family? He didn't want to be a rich man. Or powerful. He only wanted a happy family and see his children grow. By Lou's side, if possible.

The old woman grabbed his chin and made him look at her. For sure he was not familiar enough to call her Mamaw. To him, she was Madame Mercier. Both a legend and a warning in New Orleans. Lou's hands were over his shoulders, squeezing and caressing him, caring and sweet.

Mamaw squinted and tried to find something in his eyes. Something that was not there. Romie was nor cruel or malicious. He didn't wish to dominate Louise. He didn't want to force her into submission. Cage her in a kitchen and trap her in their house. She already looked awfully similar to her grand-mère, she didn't have to repeat Connie's story.

“ _Il est très gentil, Mamaw_.” Lou crossed her arms over his collarbones, embracing him kindly from behind.

“ _Tous les hommes le sont, si vous êtes amoureux._ ” she snorted and shook her head.

Romie grew a little nervous, because while he didn't speak that much French or all that well (his friend Bill Bowers was the one that taught him all that he knew), he could understand both of them just fine.

“I don't wanna hurt nobody.” Romie mumbled. Maybe it won't help.

“I'll kill you and feed you to her if you do.” Mamaw released his chin and Lou shook her head, amused and even added _a delicious Gumbo!_ Romie didn't take the threat all that lightly, becoming a little pale.

And thank God, she didn't have more time to keep warning him, because in that moment, both Eugene and Merriell entered inside of the hut, quite focused on each other.

“Dunno, Gene, all am saying is that woman... she's givin' us all clues on how to kill people. And try to get away with it.” Merriell shrugged with his hands shoved inside the pockets of his trousers.

“No one reads her novels to find new ways to kill people, Merriell.” he snorted and closed the door after them.

“I sure am.”

“No, you aren't, you only read them to pretend you know who the killer is. And you are _always_ wrong.”

“In doubt, it's the fuckin' butler.” he grinned, obnoxious enough for Eugene to have to push him a little bit before he paid attention to their guests. “Hey.”

Romie stood up, quickly, ready to do whatever he was meant to do. And also put a little distance between the woman that just told him she was more than willing to turn him into soup if he ever mistreated Lou.

“Are you ready?” Eugene asked, carefully, raising his eyebrows.

Romie nodded.

“Okay, come with me.” he placed a hand on Romie's shoulder, about to take him back to one of the small rooms of the hut. Intimacy was key to start healing.

“What? We don't get to see it?” Merriell frowned a bit as he sat down by the table after kissing Mamaw and Lou's cheeks.

“Absolutely not.” the redhead replied as he opened the door of Merriell's former room. Just as dark and small as it had been when he was nothing but a child.

“Put on a show for me, Sledge.” he grinned.

Eugene rolled his eyes and closed the door after them.

Lou bumped her shoulder against his. She smiled so wide and he wanted to pinch her cheeks. “How is it goin'?”

“Mhmm?”

“With Eugene. It's goin' well, I can tell.”

 _Foolish little girl_.

Merriell wrapped an arm around her shoulders and played with one of her curls. “It's goin' well, yeah.” Ever since Mardi Gras, they had been living a fucking dream. Merriell felt beyond enchanted. Eugene was a little sassy and sometimes quite funny. He was kind and spending those three weeks with him had been, in fact, the best he ever had in his life. “He makes me read all the time, though.”

“ _Oh_.” by the tone of her voice he could simply tell she found that quite plain and boring.

“He says I should do it more often.” Merriell has never been an avid reader. Never had the patience. Now, spending the night reading in silence with Eugene sitting down on the same couch, seemed to be the perfect picture of _happiness_. “And I teach him some French.” Well, he couldn't teach much when he wouldn't be able to write it down properly even if he tried his best. “ _Translatin'_ for him.” Far more accurate.

“You look happy.” she pocked his cheek with one of her fingers.

Merriell grinned and pulled her closer to him. He whispered on her ear: “If you do it, I do it.”

Lou tilted her head to the side before she followed Merriell's eyes, that were glued on the door. Of course he was curious. Merriell never got to see Eugene's gift. He didn't know what he was meant to do when someone's soul was so ugly and dirty that he had to intervene. He wanted to see it, so he could love Eugene even more. And of course, Merriell knew that Lou would want to spy on them as well, because she would want to know what to tell Romie if he ever got sick with sadness and fear he brought from the war.

She seemed to be conflicted. She looked at Mamaw, who was strict, with hard eyes and clearly disagreeing with his idea. “ _No_.”

“My boy is holy and you won't let me see his grace? _Bullshit_.” Merriell replied before he pinched Lou's arm to make her look at him once again. “They won't even notice.” he tried to tempt her. That had always been his role, ever since they were children. Merriell was always the one that tried to get them to do something mischievous. Roe used to be the fool that ended up getting tricked by Merriell into doing whatever he wanted to do. Now it was Lou. “ _C'mon_.”

Lou smiled a little bit and quickly stood up, walking very silently towards the door. Merriell was right behind her. Both of them pressed their ears against the door at the very same time.

“What are they talkin' about?” Merriell frowned. “I thought he _prayed_.”

“Not always.” Lou replied. Eugene prayed for her because that's what could heal her soul in that moment of despair. Because that prayer reminded her of her grand-mère. But Eugene told her that sometimes praying did nothing for those who didn't believe. Or that didn't share his religion. It was more about happy and tender memories more than faith. Faith was what kept Eugene full of that good energy. “Sometimes it's just what makes you happy. Or takes you to better times.”

What would he do with him? He didn't really have that many happy memories. He always felt like something ( _someone_ ) was missing. Merriell continued to listen and could hear that Romie spoke about his childhood. About the marbles his deceased father bought him when he turned seven. And he also spoke about Mardi Gras. And how dancing with Lou had been like opening the door to happiness once again. Merriell saw her smiling and biting her lower lip. She was stupidly in love, wasn't she?

Well. He couldn't judge her too harshly. Not when he was _also_ losing his head over a boy.

Lou leaned back, like she heard enough. She hummed and walked towards Mamaw. She sat down on the arm of her seat and hugged her. “We danced all night.” she sighed, dreamily. “Now I understand Edith Piaf when she sings that she sees life _en rose_ when her beloved one speaks to her.” she hummed the tune of the song.

Mamaw shook her head, like she was a lost cause.

“He'll be good to me, Mamaw.” Lou insisted a little bit.

“What about your Maman?” Elise became far more distant and sour towards Lou after the death of her husband.

The girl shrugged and decided to stay hopeful: “Love conquers all.”

Merriell didn't bother himself to voice his opinion. He trusted that Lou would be correct. He also needed some luck on his side with his little crush.

*** * ***

Eugene held the door open with his left foot as he shook Romie's hand. “If you ever need anything, let me know.” But he had the feeling that Lou would step in before the veteran would even have the time to word anything himself.

“Thank you so much.” there was warmth in Romie's voice. Like he was given a small sip of hope. Like he was returning to the right path. Now he had to carry on. Fight and struggle, but everything just to see that having a normal life, the one he once wanted, was still a possibility. Eugene Sledge truly had a something he could not describe.

“Don't worry about it.” Eugene denied as he smiled.

He said goodbye to the couple and looked up for a moment, seeing the sky becoming darker. They better have dinner soon or they will get caught by the storm in their way back to their house. He closed the door without saying anything and sat down by the table.

“Our boy is an _illusionist_.” Merriell grinned as he helped Mamaw to serve dinner. The woman was not getting any younger and sometimes she was too tired to stand up and walk around her little shack.

“Are you accusing me _witchcraft_?”

“You are a _ginger_ , after all.” he said as he left the bowl of court-bouillon in front of him. Eugene truly did not eat meat on Fridays during Lent like a good penitent that he was.

“You love making fun of my hair, don't you?”

“You have no idea, Gene.”

And then, they had dinner. Eugene cherished those little moments. They ate and told Mamaw about their day. She always scolded them, for one reason or another. At first, Eugene thought that she was an unreasonable woman, bitter and distant. But it was easy to see that it was a facade. That the very much feared Madame Mercier loved them far more she would ever dare to say out loud.

He completely forgot about the storm, and he didn't remember until the first thunder crossed the sky and make the walls of the hut shake with the echo. By that time, Eugene was trying to remove a splinter from Merriell's index finger (he always came back home with plenty of those due his job at the sawmill). And because Merriell had his hand on his lap, he could see how his body became hard and tense with that thunderous noise. He grabbed Eugene's hand and squeezed his fingers tightly, wincing under his breath.

The twizzlers ended up trapped between their fingers and Eugene tilted his head to the side as Merriell kept his eyes closed. His palms were rapidly becoming moist, making the harsh grip slippery, and Eugene could release himself. The twizzlers fell to the ground and then heavy rain started to pour over the hut. Merriell's soul smelled like pure rust, in that moment.

But he was not letting him go. Merriell's hands quickly moved to grab Eugene's waist, digging his ten fingers on his flesh, over the clothes he was wearing. Another thunder; just as loud and just as sudden. Merriell's breathing started to speed up, becoming louder and harsh. He pressed his forehead against Eugene's chest and he didn't know what to do for a second.

Behind Merriell's eyelids, he could see _Hell_. He could see everything take the shape of an uneven mountain; covered in mud. Corpses swimming in the murky waters, half drowned in shit and guts. He could only see what was around him when the artillery exploded in the air. Rain fell over him, soaking him. It didn't fucking matter anymore if it was an old or new poncho. He was soaked and he was going to die, there. He knew there weren't enough men. He knew they would all end up dying without any sort of dignity. Without ever going back home.

“Merriell?” Eugene tried to cup his face, trying to make him look at him. But he only pressed his forehead harder to his chest until started to hurt. Eugene winced a little bit and could manage to stand up, but Merriell landed on his knees, unable to even hear him. “Mamaw!”

The old woman stood up from her seat and did her best to help him out to try to bring Merriell back to reality. She tried to get him to drink some water and slapped his face. But Merriell was only panting and crying against Eugene's stomach; _terrified_. The rain was not merciful; it was pouring hard over the hut, over the bayou. Almost threatening him to drown him there, as well. And each thunder or lightining was yet another bomb. This was no longer New Orleans. Merriell went back in time and he was once again in that island that took so much away from him.

Perhaps, at some point, Eugene could see some bits of a war he never lived through Merriell's suffocating fear.

*** * ***

Between the both of them could take Merriell back to his old bedroom. It was impossible to take him back to their house like that. When they laid him down on his narrow and small bed, he twisted and whimpered, still unable to see any of them. The room was dark and Eugene lit the candle, so he could get some sort of comfort and don't let darkness twist his reality any further. Mamaw offered herself to take care of Merriell for him. But Eugene denied the offer.

He tried to calm him down, caressing his forehead and letting him know that he was home. That he wasn't alone and that there was nothing left to fear. But he wasn't listening. His mind was cruel and his body exhausted after forcing his muscles to get hard and practically impossible to bend. That's a mutilated spirit. It took Eugene the whole night for Merriell to stop fisting his hands and clenching his jaw. He had to stroke his arms and comfort him in the best way he could.

Eugene prayed and promised that if God stopped the rain, he would fast until Easter. Almost a whole month without barely drinking or eating anything. But He had to do this for Merriell. He didn't listen and the rain didn't stop. That morning, Merriell looked exhausted. But still unable to fall asleep. Sometimes his breathing became erratic and his heartbeat raced for no other reason than the memories he carried with him. Eugene felt ashamed that he once thought that becoming a Marine implied nothing but honor and bravery. This could had been him. He had to remind himself how wrong and how foolish he once was.

“It's okay, Merriell.” he whispered as he undid the buttons of his shirt. He had been sweating all night. Now his clothes were moist and cold. When Eugene changed them, he didn't blush or try to observe Merriell's body. He was far too concerned to take any interest on the even complexion of his skin or its texture. Neither he tried to count or remember all of his scars. He simply changed his clothes now that his body was tired enough for Eugene to move like it was a like a doll.

But Merriell didn't talk back to him. His lips were pale and his eyes were lost, just waiting until his heart would twist and his lungs would betray him again. The weight of his anxiety was heavy under Eugene's tongue.

Mamaw was worried. There was nothing she could do to hide that from Eugene. Her soul has always been a mystery to him. But that night, Eugene could simply tell that this had been what she spoke about when she told him that Merriell's soul would _rot_. And that the pact she had with his mother had been made for this reason. Now it was when Eugene proved himself worthy of his role. See if that _gift_ of his could truly help Merriell. His soul was nothing like others he has ever seen. His was especially harmed.

He helped her to give Merriell an infusion that would help soothe his nerves. Or at least relax his body. It scared him a little bit when he grew quiet and moved less and less, closing his eyes, and still _not_ sleeping. Eugene caressed his hands and continued to hold them while he looked up at the woman. Mamaw's eyes were shiny and they held a tenderness that while it was usually well-hidden, existed.

Eugene stood up and released Merriell's hands before he wrapped an arm around Mamaw and walked her out of the small bedroom. He helped her to sit down back on her spot and she denied, slowly. “He doesn't deserve this.”

“He's going to be okay.” Eugene crouched in front of her. She caressed his face with her hand. “I'll make sure of it. You knew I'd be the one to help him.” he smiled a little bit. “It's just a little rain. It will stop, eventually.” The Sun would raise. And Merriell would get better. “But you have to tell me. There must be something that makes him happy. A memory. A toy he had as a child. A book. I don't know... A song. _Something_. Something I can use to take him away from war. Mamaw, you have to help me so I can start to heal him.”

Mamaw sighed and grabbed Eugene's hands, patting them as she tried to get herself to start speaking. “When my Merry was little... He was always very sweet and he was always tryin' to get everybody's attention.” Eugene thought that, perhaps, Merriell didn't change that much, after all. “I was not goin' to be his Maman. I'm _not_. And he really wanted one. He still aches for 'er, you saw it, huh?” the boy nodded a little bit. “Suzette... My Connie told me that I had to let my Merry become friends with Suzette's boy.” Each time Mamaw spoke about Connie, Eugene could smell something sweet and somehow pure. The most beautiful feeling. “So I took 'im to see the _bébé_ when he was born. Merry was just a _petit diable_. He barely walked all by 'imself and he still followed Suzette like a _caneton_. He didn't want to leave at all. Suzette has always been good girl, unlike 'er sister. So she offered to take care of Merriell that night. And I let 'er.” she shook her head, like she truly regretted.

“What happened?” Eugene insisted a little bit, not knowing how that could help him. Or Merriell.

“She sang to 'im. To them both. And then he expected _me_ to do it.”

“Why didn't you?” Mamaw was not... kind in the most obvious sense of the word. She was not overly sweet. Or a woman that knew how to express her love properly beyond a couple of caresses and a warm meal.

“Made me think about my Connie too much.” she tried to distract herself and her sadness by brushing the collar of his shirt. “First time I saw 'er, she was singing that song. I _still_ can't even hear it.” because she was still not over her friend's death.

Eugene parted his lips and considered that, maybe, Mamaw's soul could also use some healing. But could he do anything at all with a wound that had been open for so long? He held her hand and made her cup his cheek with it, to return her attention back on his face. One patient at a time, right? At that moment, it was Merriell who needed his help: “Tell me the song, will you?”

*** * ***

The umbrella did practically nothing for him. He was already soaked by the time he arrived to their house. Thankfully, everything was alright and while it been raining quite a lot, their house didn't flood. Eugene returned just to get the small portrait Merriell kept of his mother. It was very obvious that he still had her in his mind. And that he would never forget her. And while she was the one that inflicted pain on him for leaving, she was still a symbol of hope for Merriell. So he took it and headed to the town.

He asked Lou to help him out. If her grand-mère and her aunt used to sing that song, chances were that she heard her plenty of times, growning up. Just like the prayer they were so fond of. He was lucky and while she constantly asked why he wanted to get a music box with that exact melody, he only said that he wanted one. She knew he was lying, but she also knew that when Eugene lied, it was for an important reason. So she helped him and Eugene returned a couple of hours later with the portrait and the music box.

“How is he doing?” he asked as he removed his wet jacket, throwing it aside.

“Worse.” Mamaw replied.

Eugene nodded and mumbled: “I can help him.” he had to trust that he could. He had been doing this for a few years. He could and he _had_ to do it.

Then, he entered inside of the room and closed the door. There was a faint bitter scent in the air. He was sure that Mamaw tried to feed him something and he had been unable to stomach the food. She had time to clean the vomit before Eugene came back. He sighed a little bit and quickly sat down on the chair close to the small bed. Merriell was trying lucky he was not especially tall or wide.

“I'm dyin', Gene.” he mumbled weakly, with chapped lips and tired eyes. This was not only the result of a bad night plagued with anxiety, terrible memories and panic attacks. This was more than a whole damn month without barely sleeping. This was a soul that couldn't take it anymore.

“Nonsense.” he denied as he slipped his hand inside of his trouser's pocket.

“It won't stop raining. We are gonna fuckin' drown in here.” he mumbled, bringing one of his hands to his head, probably feeling dizzy once again. At least it was not thundering anymore.

Eugene grabbed that hand and left the portrait of his mother there; it was small enough to fit on his palm. Merriell blinked and almost wanted to ask Eugene how did he know about that portrait, but after all, Eugene had been using his room for years. Of course he knew it was there. He held it close to his chest and exhaled.

From his other pocket, Eugene got the small music box. He didn't know the song, he didn't know French and for sure he couldn't sing. So that was the best next thing to try to bring him back to that soothing melody that was important enough for Merriell to ask that from Mamaw for a good part of his childhood.

Eugene moved from the chair to the bed, sitting over the edge of the thin mattress. He opened the box and left it over the seat. When Mamaw answered his question earlier that day and said _A La Claire Fontaine_ , it truly did not ring a bell. It started to sound kind of familiar when Lou hummed the tune, convinced that he must have heard it before. And now that he could hear it coming from the music box, he was still not sure that he knew the song. And even if he did, it sounded like a whole new melody, because he could see the story right behind it. He could picture a little Merriell enamoured with the idea of having a sweet mother that would sing to him each night as Suzette did with her son. A boy that craved to be loved and protected. Something that, sadly, could not be.

And perhaps Eugene was aiming for that feeling to come back. That hope and that naivety to think that, _yes_. Perhaps he could still have that in a different way. Let him understand that he could have someone caring about him. Loving him. Protecting him. Being there, for him, no matter what. And while Eugene was using past memories for him to be able to understand that happier come to you sooner or later, he was also trying to tell him that could become that person he could rely on. He held the hand that wasn't holding the portrait and left the other one over Merriell's forehead.

Merriell blinked a little bit when he could easily recognize the melody. And while he couldn't remember all that well that night at the Roe's, he could remember how calm and how happy he felt that night when a woman that was almost a stranger sang to him like he was also her son. And how he liked to imagine his mother with her same voice, singing the very same song, like she was there. Like she never had to leave him because she couldn't take care of him. Like she didn't die in that accident and she could still come back for him. And even if Merriell loved Mamaw tremendously, the woman always left very clear that she was not his mother. And that she would never be. _There's only one mother_ , she always told him, _no matter if she's good or bad to you_.

And perhaps, his very exhausted soul was desperate for a break. Because as soon as he heard the music box playing that tender memory, he could only look up at Eugene. The boy clearly took the time to find out about this. And even went to the town in the middle of that Hellish storm, since his hair and clothes were still wet. His touch was a little bit cold but Merriell didn't care. Eugene's hand brushed his forehead and then he ran his fingers through his dirty curls. He didn't have it in him to feel self-conscious in that moment. Sure, he could use a shower, but in that same moment he was beyond enchanted because whatever that Eugene was doing, whatever that his gift was, it was _real_. And he could feel it right under his skin and his flesh and yet so far from his bones.

It was some kind of warmth. Like when you have to soak something up with warm water to get rid of the filth. That kind of purity that was not abrasive, but slow and soft. Eugene rested his forehead against his and Merriell held his hand a little tighter, looking at him with curious and helpless eyes. _Oh, he'll be divine to you_ , Mamaw told him the very first time she let him know about Eugene. And he was. And not so much because he seemed to be unreachable and far above than anything Merriell would ever be. Perhaps a bit like that but more because of the quality of his heart and his dedication to do good. Merriell never met someone like him; someone so willing to give and to heal, expecting nothing exchange. He had to keep him in his life. Eugene was the very best that could ever happen to him. No one would ever compare to his boy.

Eugene kept giving when he mumbled, with the most soothing voice Merriell ever heard: “You are loved, Merry. You are so loved.” And he had been waiting _ages_ for those words. For that honest kindness that expected nothing from him. Words that were full of dedication and the promise of being there, no matter what. He closed his eyes and let the tears stream down his cheeks, perhaps relieved or forcing everything that was miserable and tragic out of his body. He held Eugene close to him, cold and wet as he was, and yet feeling the warmth that emanated from his very spirit.

Merriell fell asleep while clinging onto him. Thirteen long hours of nothing but peace and hope; no nightmares.

*** * ***

When he woke up, he was alone in his bed. And for the first time in years, he didn't feel anxious. He knew that Eugene was right on the other side of the door. He rubbed his eyes and breathed, now deep and calm. Those had been the most terrifying twenty-four hours he ever lived as a civilian. In fact, he couldn't remember all that much from last night. Just tensing his jaw and hoping to God it would pass soon. He could sit down all by himself and looked around. The small music box was still over the chair. Eugene probably left the portrait of his mother right there, as well. Merriell held it in his hand once again, observing his mother's features. He smiled a little bit and mumbled: “Can you believe it?” His boy had healing hands and a beautiful spirit. He pressed a kiss against the picture and grabbed the music box before he got out of bed.

He saw Eugene sleeping, sitting down by the table, on Mamaw's chair. That was strange. The woman _never_ let anyone take her seat. Perhaps it was so late that she went to bed and she only let him take it because there was no way Eugene would leave the hut without Merriell. Or maybe it was still raining. He stayed in silence for a second and heard _nothing_.

 _No_ , he stayed because he wanted to leave with him. He had to smile. Fuck, that made him so happy. Merriell was about to touch Eugene, wake him up tenderly after leaving everything he carried with him on the table, when a firm hand stopped him by holding his shoulder. He turned and saw Mamaw, tired as she could be, and with moist eyes. She always had such a strong grip, no matter the fact that she was getting older. Merriell embraced her and she held him tightly.

She didn't have to apologize to him. She did everything she could to raise him. To do what was best for him. To keep him safe and alive. Merriell never felt like he could ever accuse her of anything. Not when she had no obligation to take him in and yet, she did. And perhaps Mamaw was not all too kind or all too sweet or as affectionate as Merriell would have wanted her to be. But she had always been there for him. Telling him what he did wrong and always willing to feed him if he came back home famished. She even gave him a house, that perhaps was the grave of her worst memory, but she also gave him _Eugene_.

“ _Thank you_.” he mumbled.

This could had been only the _beginning_ of something terrible. The first night of a torment that could have stretched for days. A fear that wouldn't let him sleep or eat anything at all and cosume him from the very inside. This could had been the beginning of his soul rotting inside of his body and spreading the disease all over his brain and his limbs. And Eugene, with his hands and a small memory that perhaps did or did not matter that much, could get him to sleep for hours. His boy had magic tied to his heart.

He pressed a kiss against her cheek and another one against her forehead. She nodded and patted his sides. “Gonna take him back home.” he replied, stepping back. “You should go back to bed, Mamaw.”

The woman couldn't help but think that she truly hoped that her Merry wouldn't make the same mistake as she did, many years ago. The pain of losing the one you truly love the most never goes away.

*** * ***

It sounded like Merriell was fighting a war upstairs. Eugene just came back home from college and, of course, he got a bit scared that he might have gotten worse once again. He dropped his bag and books over the couch before he quickly ran to the second floor. The noise came from the unused bedroom at the end of the corridor. Eugene frowned a little bit as he opened the door, seeing lumbers scattered all over the floor. Merriell was crouching in the middle of the room with a hammer in his hand, assembling them all.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Merriel turned his head a little bit and blinked a couple of times. Then he frowned and replied: “You are home early.”

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“Are you skippin' classes?” for some reason, he was always so strict when it came to Eugene attending his classes. He thought it was endearing, in a way. Like he really cared about him getting a proper education. Making it far in life or... _whatever_.

“No, I just finished a little earlier.” he denied. Then he insisted once again: “What's this?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” Merriell huffed. “But I guess... This is me, sayin' _thanks_.”

Eugene couldn't help but smile and cross his arms. “Oh, yeah? Saying thanks? What for?”

“You can be a dick, sometimes, Gene. You know _damn well_ the reason.” he snorted.

Eugene approached him. He placed a hand over his back and crouched by his side. “There's no need to thank me for anything. I told you. I want to help you.”

How could someone talk to this boy and not fall in love? It was _ridiculous_.

“Still wanna do it. I want you to have a proper bedroom. With a proper bed. Because I want you to stay _here_.” Merriell replied, licking his lips, almost expecting Eugene to tell him that he would leave, someday. That there was no need.

But instead he whispered: “I want to stay.” Eugene rubbed his nose and added: “I want to make sure... Uh, that you are going to do well. There are going to be good days. _And_ bad days. And other days when you won't even recognize yourself.” this was not something he could solve just like that. He could help people to feel better. Have something to fight for. But the battle was theirs to win. He merely wanted to stay by Merriell's side as long as he could. “And when that happens, I want to be here to help you remember.”

That was the moment when Merriell kissed him. If he would have only dared!

Eugene took the hammer from his hand and said: “Let me help you with this. Making a bed base shouldn't be too complicated.”

Perhaps Merriell was a little too busy looking at him to notice how _terrible_ Eugene was at building anything. He just smashed the hammer against the wood and with each blow, Merriell couldn't help but come back to reality. And worry about Eugene's fingers.

“There, there. Calm down, _Sledgehammer_.” he grinned, stopping his hand. “I'll do it.”

Eugene snorted and rolled his eyes: “You don't ever stop with the nicknames, do you?”

If Merriell was lucky enough, he would get to call him more and far more intimate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION:
> 
> Il est très gentil, Mamaw: He is very gentle, Mamaw.  
> Tous les hommes le sont, si vous êtes amoureux: All men are, if you are in love. (I am not 100% of this one)  
> Caneton: duckling  
> REFERENCE:
> 
> Fauteuil pomare: a very fancy kind of chair.  
> Santería: “also known as Regla de Ocha, La Regla de Ifá, or Lucumí, is an Afro-American religion of Yoruba origin that developed in Cuba among West African descendants. Santería is a Spanish word that means the "worship of saints". Santería is influenced by and syncretized with Roman Catholicism. Its sacred language is the Lucumí language, a remanant of Yoruba language that is used in rituals but no longer spoken as a vernacular and mostly not understood by practitioners.” Source Wikipedia.  
> À La Claire Fontaine: is a traditional French song, which has also become very popular in Canada - especially the French-speaking areas such as Québec. This song was the first hymn of New France (the terrotories were: Province of Quebec, Acadia, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Newfoundland and Louisiana). Source Wikipedia. The two versions I had in mind while writing this chapter were [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJkJe2zMQng) and [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33LFf0cOcLg).


	15. Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still, when Eugene struggled, his shoulder blades poked under the fabric of his shirt. Those fucking suspenders did not help in the slightest. They joined right in the middle of his back and then followed his spine, leading where Merriell truly shouldn't look if he didn't want to ruin this. But fucking Hell, it was complicated. So he decided that looking at the opposite direction would be his best choice.  
> Wrong.  
> Each time he looked at the back of Eugene's neck, his jaw hurt. He wanted to bite him. Just bite him and mark him and let the world know that this boy had someone back home, waiting for him. Loving him like a desperate fool. 
> 
> OR
> 
> They are both thirsty, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I struggled quite a bit with this chapter and... Well. I'll post the same question as I did on my tumblr last night: Are these chapters getting too long? You still want to read them if they are a little longer than 5,000 words as I said I would make them? Or it's too much? I try to control myself and make them shorter but I feel like the story would barely progress if not. I want to feel like something happens on each chapter and I am not great at writing short stuff.
> 
> What do you think? 
> 
> Anyway. Thank you for your kudos and comments. Let me know if you liked it bc... I don't think if this is all that good or what :/

**APRIL, 1946**

The bed was pretty big. Big enough for him to sleep on one side of it. He truly didn't understand why Merriell felt the need to make it _that_ big. His was way smaller. And so was his bedroom. Why give someone else the best you have when that's your own house? Maybe Eugene was a selfish boy, but he felt like he wouldn't do the same if it was up to him.

Merriell claimed to be careless, rude and apologetically infuriating, most of the times. He loved to argue with Eugene even about things that were truly not up to discussion. Sometimes he even felt like he could deny him there was a sky above them (not even talking about Heaven!). But the truth was that he was a very caring person. In the same way he always got everybody's drinks and food when they were out, he also made sure to give him the very best of his house when he didn't have to.

Merriell was something like a _builder_ , to Eugene. Everything that he has, Merriell gave it to him. The house, the bed; the purpose, the joy. Having a place in this world that didn't trap him or suffocate him anymore. And because Merriell helped him to set free, even before he came back to New Orleans, Eugene wanted to stay in his life. Because life by his side was impressive and thrilling while still being so awfully mundane. Life was worth cherishing, by his side. It's as real as it gets: with all the colors and all the scents he missed from his house in Mobile, that each time resembled more a small cage bathed in gold than the place of tenderness and good memories that a home should be.

 _This_ was his home. In the middle of a swamp, a tired and sad house made out of wood that was not too big or too beautiful. A house that could flood at any moment, a house that was twenty minutes away from any proper and solid ground. Even further from the core of the city. A house that gave them privacy to do whatever they wanted. A shrine that honored their friendship and shielded them from prying eyes and avid accusations. A secrecy that was far from choking and absolutely protective.

There was nothing Eugene liked more than coming back home to him.

By the time he arrived, Merriell was already there: laying down on the grass, shirtless (his dogtags reflected the light) and barefoot. His shirt always ended up wrinkled and turned into a pillow for more comfort while he enjoyed the Sun. Eugene had the habit to pick Merriell's shoes (that were discarded as soon as he set a foot on his _property_ ) and leave them inside of the house, knowing that the older boy wouldn't miss them until next morning before leaving to work. God knows he would lose them all the time If Eugene wasn't there. But such simple act had plenty of meaning: he spent years being unable to remove his boots because he was constantly under attack. This? This was the safest place on Earth, for Merriell. Because if something ever happened to him, Eugene would be there, as he had been during the storm.

Eugene left his bag over the couch and took his sweater off. It was getting too warm to wear it. He rolled up his sleeves up and walked out of the house. Merriell heard him come closer and when he saw him with his pale blue shirt and his suspenders, he was very _grateful_. He had been dreaming about grabbing them to hold him in place and be able to bruise Eugene's neck with his lips. Those were the only marks that he wanted to leave on him: the ones that would reveal his love and his passion for him.

“What are you doing?” Eugene asked as he sat down by his side.

Merriell closed his eyes and grinned a little bit. “Sunbathin'.”

“I'll join you.” Eugene said before he laid down, carefully covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow.

“You can only go from white to red, Sledgehammer.” Eugene could hear that he was smiling while he spoke. “But not get some _decent_ tan.”

“How do you know?”

“You are a ginger, boy.”

Eugene snorted. He loved to bring that up, honestly. “Gingers can get tanned.”

“Lyin' is a sin.”

“ _I_ can get tanned.” he insisted.

“Show me, then.”

“Wouldn't you love that?” Eugene snorted.

Oh, he would absolutely love that. Merriell grinned a little bit and licked his lower lip, remembering the very few times he has seen Eugene's skin. _Beautiful_. He was beautiful and Merriell was desperate to get his hands on him. But... he didn't want to fuck this up. He really didn't want to scare him off. He wanted Eugene to stay so he could love him for many years to come. So... How to do this without making him feel that he only wanted to fuck him because it was convenient? Sure, Eugene cared about him. He liked him. Maybe only as a friend. Fuck, there was always a doubt waiting for him, asking: _yeah, okay, but what if...?_

Fucking frustrating.

Merriell opened his eyes and looked at him. Eugene's forearm covered a good part of his face and kept him from seeing how he took his sweet time to observe everything about him. He would love him _well_. He would take his time. He could tell that Eugene was still a virgin. He didn't need the boy to recognize anything. It was simply obvious by the way he smiled when Lou or Merriell himself tried to talk about romance. He never bothered himself to add anything or share any sort of experience. And he would know if he wasn't. Merriell felt that he would have ended up telling Lou, and the girl would have told him. He loved her, but she sure loved to gossip about that kind of things.

The thing was that he had been thinking about it, lately. More than usual and not only because his body told him that he deserved a little fun in the bedroom. But because he absolutely wanted Eugene to become his in that particular way. And Merriell would be good. _So good_. He would show him something brand new. And make sure that Eugene fell in love with the experience, so he would ask for _more_ each time.

Merriell licked his lips and tried to not overthink about Eugene in that certain situation. He decided to close his eyes once again, making himself comfortable over his wrinkled shirt under the back of his head.

Then Eugene moved his hand a little bit away to look at Merriell. Sometimes he felt the need to bite either his lips or his fingers when he looked at him. He felt like many things would spill out if he didn't keep his mouth busy. This was becoming so intimate and so intense, that Eugene could barely think about himself without Merriell. He thought about him: he missed him when he was not around and he desperately craved him when he was.

Because... Well. Eugene had been trying to make amends with his own desires. He no longer knew that if he never liked any other boy because they were truly not that appealing to him, because he didn't allow himself to like them or because they weren't Merriell. He didn't know, and honestly, he stopped caring about that. What clearly bothered him now was the urge his body and his mind had to be physically close to Merriell. He wanted his eyes on him, his hands. His lips. He wanted his whole body on him. And that _terrified_ him. He knew nothing and he was no longer a teenager. Did he have any excuse to be that clueless? Eugene always thought that waiting for _the one_ was what he was meant to do. And no one should be ashamed for doing what was expected of them. He started having his doubts because if... If something happened and perhaps Merriell ended up liking him in the way he'd want him to, then... Maybe... Maybe he would feel like Eugene was lost? Or a foolish boy? He doubted that he would like to see him barely knowing how to even kiss him back.

He liked him. Jesus Christ, he liked him so much. More and more each time. Now he was a boy and no longer a task or the experience other people had. Merriell was flesh and bone, and Eugene... Eugene _loved_ him. This had to be love. That dedication, the necessity to be always by his side, and that gratitude he had towards Merriell who gave him as much as he had. God help him, he was in love and he didn't know what to do.

But, on the other hand... There was no rush. This house was his and time was on their side. They would always be together. If something was meant to happen, it will happen. At its own pace. Eugene knew that being here did him so much good. He stopped feeling anxious about the future. He was happy to see with his own eyes. He welcomed it like an old friend that finally returned.

So, his worries slowly turned into a soft content sigh: “I really like it here, Mer.” he confessed with raw tenderness on his voice.

 _Mer_. He called him Mer. Merriell was actually impressed he didn't choke in his own spit. “Better than Mobile?” he dared to ask.

“Mobile is...” Eugene didn't want to feel like he was careless. Or willing to forget where he came from. Was it his fault that he was no longer fond of the memory of going back there? He could visit, of course, but go back there? Forever? _Oh, no_. “A bit like a play.”

“Pompous as fuck?”

“Beautiful, organized, polished. It looks good and sounds good. _Fictional_.” Eugene allowed himself to talk. Be honest about it. See what his mind had to say and listen to himself, so he could be able to understand how he truly felt by sharing such thoughts with Merriell. “Everybody has their lines and they teach you your role since you are very little. If someone started to improvise, it would ruin the whole piece.”

“ _That_ bad, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean. I was never sad, but...” And that sentence was enough to realize that _yes_ , he was sad for most of the years that lived there. He just didn't dare to accept it in fear to become a bad son and a bad friend. “I don't want to go back. I like it here. I _love_ it here.”

And Eugene's voice became a song for Merriell. One he could spend decades listening to. Hearing him saying that he wanted to stay in New Orleans because he was happy made him feel thrilled. Thankful to something divine that must be above. But that was right before Eugene gasped, startled.

“What?” he quickly opened his eyes. Merriell shifted to bear his weight over his forearms, to be able to stand up and run if Eugene needed him to.

Turns out that it was only a funny toad that decided to join the conversation by jumping on Eugene's stomach. Merriell snorted and laid on his back once again. Yeah, you either get used to them or you shouldn't bother yourself to live in the bayou.

“For sure, in Mobile, frogs are a little bit more polite. You see, they would wait until I was _done_ talking.” Eugene snorted and Merriell grinned, taking the amphibian in his hand, watching it try to hop away. No, that toad was about to become his friend and he will only release it once Merriell got tired of demanding love or soothed his childish fascination for all the slimy and disgusting creatures that hid under the water.

“I bet she only wants to make friends.” he decided that it was a girl. And her name was Rosalie from now and on. “Look at her. Pretty girl, wantin' the boy's attention.” he approached Rosalie to Eugene's face who leaned back, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Not kissing her.”

“She doesn't want your kisses, cocky boy. She only wants the attention. To be heard and understood, huh?” he petted her slippery skin. “But back to Mobile.” he still wanted to know more. Make sure that Eugene didn't miss anything that would make him want to return. “You ain't got no friends, there?” He kind of knew the answer.

“Of course. There's... There's _Sid_...” Eugene muttered, with an awful sense of guilt over his shoulders.

Each time Eugene said his name, he could see the boy's name written on the letter Merriell stole away from him when he first discovered Eugene's name in Guadalcanal. “Talk to me about him?” Let's see if he can tame his jealousy.

“I don't know what to say.” and that was sad, wasn't it? To not know what to say about your best friend. He recalled how Lou asked about him, a couple of years ago. Eugene barely bothered himself to say much about him and described Sid as _an old greaser_. But then he asked about Merriell and that's it. Now he had to force himself to think to be able to say _something_ about him. “I guess I admired him when I was little. I was thrilled about the fact that I had a friend. I really wanted to please him. Like the same things as he did.” Like baseball and Mary Houston. Eugene sighed and rested his hands over his stomach. “I was sad when he left. But not as sad as I thought I would be.” that sounded awful, so he was quick to add: “He is my friend. He will always be my friend. And I _love_ him. I want the best for him.”

Merriell squeezed the toad a little bit. She complained and he forced himself to behave.

“I want the best for him but I don't think...” this was terrible. “we could be friends as we used to. I'm _different_ now.” He was no longer what other people wanted him to be. And he could make a long list on why Sid wouldn't like him anymore.

“You don't have to do that, you know?” Merriell finally said. “You don't have to, like... Don't fuckin' know, Gene. Butcher what you feel insecure about so other people will tolerate you. Tell you what: if someone really doesn't wanna like you, they won't. No matter how many reasons you give them to think you are _great_.” Was that him being supportive and genuine or him being selfish and manipulative so he could ruin the friendship between those two? He honestly didn't know. “You talk to him often?”

Eugene pressed his lips and shook his head. He had been avoiding Sid for quite a bit. He didn't even go to the post office to see if he sent him any letters, anymore. Either to him or his parents. Eddie was out of the question since his little brother was quite mad at him for no reason. And he could barely call home because Lou's situation with her mother was complicated, to say the least. She wouldn't want him to visit to use her phone. Eugene felt constantly struggling to balance both lives: the one he left behind and the one he was currently enjoying.

*** * ***

Merriell still struggled with falling asleep. Sometimes there was no way he could soothe himself before midnight. Not even after opening the music box that, _honestly_ , helped an awful lot. A veteran using a lullaby to fall asleep. That surely made him feel _tough_. But tonight, he dared to lean against the doorframe of Eugene's room. He chatted with him until the boy offered him to lay down by his side, seeing that the conversation was not coming to an end. He sat down over the mattress Eugene bought a couple of days after Merriell finished the bed base (taking that fucker home had been a terrible experience). He got to add the headboard the carved himself just last weekend. Eugene flattered him and told him the same he told Lou the morning of Mardi Gras: _you could do that for a living_. Nah, he only wanted to do that kind of things for Eugene. But it didn't look too bad, with the vines curling and twisting and that single sparrow perched over the leaves, like looking after Eugene while he slept.

The boy deserved the very best and Merriell was willing to give it to him.

As he was giving him pure honesty, now: “...and then Ack Ack died and we all became orphans.” he laid down on his side, looking at Eugene's profile. He fucking loved that nose.

“Sounds like he was a great Captain.” Eugene replied with his smooth and caring voice. He adored him.

Merriell closed his eyes and sighed. “He was.” Great men died in that war. Men who deserved happiness far more than he did. “You see that life ain't that fair, Sledgehammer. Bullets have no names. You get hit by one and it's no one's fault. It is is what it is. Fuckin' war, y'know?”

“I wanted to join the Marines.” Eugene confessed.

“Why?” Merriell frowned. He didn't want to. He did it before they drafted him. It was going to happen either way.

“I wanted to be... a hero. Fight for my country. Don't know.” Eugene huffed. He had been a stupid, stupid boy. “Everybody was doing it, so... I had to do it too. I felt very sad when they rejected me. I even lost count on how many times.” he snorted at himself.

“They wanted no gin—”

“Don't you even _dare_.” Eugene warned him. “I have a heart condition.”

Merriell's mouth turned all dry. “ _What_?” he breathed. A heart condition? What kind of heart condition? Is his boy dying? Fuck. If they knew and no one told him about it, he will do something stupid. Tremendously stupid.

Eugene chuckled and bit the corner of his lips. “It's just a murmur. Don't cry about it.” he hit him softly on the shoulder.

Merriell still looked concerned and grabbed his wrist, frowning and looking at him in the eye: “What's that? Are you gonna die?”

“Jesus Christ, no.” Eugene rushed to answer. He looked at Merriell's fingers wrapped around his wrist and licked his lips. He liked it when he touched him. He _loved_ it. God help him. “It's just... My heart is a little noisy.”

He didn't look awfully convinced. He released Eugene and rested the palm of his hand over his chest, digging the heel against his flesh. Eugene's heartbeat started to speed up. Merriell frowned, trying to see if there was truly something wrong with Eugene's heart, even if he was truly no doctor and wouldn't be able to recognize just like that if there was something wrong with it.

Eugene cupped the back of Merriell's hand and whispered: “I'm serious. It works. It just... It makes some noise. That's all.”

So that's the reason behind the _humming heart_ part?

“Promise?” Merriell insisted one last time.

Eugene nodded and smiled. How could he lie while being in the same bed as he was and with his hand on his heart? He could keep it. He trusted Merriell with it.

*** * ***

The easiest way to rile Merriell up was to imply that Eugene would have made a better Marine than he did.

“Race me.” he said that afternoon, tired of the difamations, already throwing his shoes over his shoulder.

“What?” Eugene blinked, still smiling slightly.

“Race me. Let's see who's faster. Three laps around the house.” Merriell repeated, stepping out of the house. Eugene looked at his homework (he really should finish that before playing, that's what his mother always told him: _duty first before pleasure_ ) and ended up following him. “Don't think you would have made it even past the first days of boot camp.”

“Oh, you of little faith.” Eugene snorted, looking at Merriell already taking position, ready to start sprinting at any moment. “Whenever you want.” he hummed.

But Merriell's hand grabbed his forearm, firmly, before he said: “You are a step ahead, Sledge.”

“The distance is smaller the closer you are to the house.” he explained, calmly.

“ _Bullshit_.”

Eugene refused to try to explain himself. He was right! But, was he also trying to trick Merriell? Well, _yes_. But he wanted to win and prove his theory right. So, looking awfully confident, he suggested: “Then switch positions with me.”

That was enough to make Merriell squint. “No way.”

Eugene smiled and looked ahead. Before the older boy could expect it, he said: “Go!” No need more preparation than that. Eugene started to run and heard Merriell curse under his breath, needing a couple of seconds to react.

Truth to be told, he had never been a great athlete. When he was younger, his mother did was much as he could so he wouldn't have to exercise in high school. She was overprotective and clearly scared that his noisy heart could give him a bad time. She absolutely ignored the fact that her husband was a doctor that said that Eugene would be just _fine_. She was his mother and therefore, she could decide over him.

Eugene's endurance was not going to be impressive, but in the end, it was just three laps around a small house. He could do that. And since he was a little competitive (maybe it came with the fact that he never won at anything against anyone), Eugene also played a little dirty. He made sure to block's Merriell's way by getting in his invisible lane, running right in front of him.

“You asshole!” he heard Merriell groan right behind him.

Eugene had no time to laugh because he was suddenly tackled to the ground. “Oof!” he could only gasp before falling over the grass. Of course, Merriell was far from thinking that the issue was solved and began to wrestle around with him as soon as they landed on the floor. Eugene tried to squirm away, pressing his elbow against Merriell's chest, who was stubborn on grabbing his wrists, to press them together over the small of his back. Eugene felt far from dignified when he had to try to crawl away with his knees and _chin_.

“You said running, not fighting!” he groaned, struggling to not eat grass.

“A Marine's life is tough, boy!” Merriell sounded absolutely drunk with victory. His grip was firm and steady. Eugene tried to roll his wrists and try to push them apart, but Merriell's fingers seemed to be holding the weapon he did not let go for years. So he huffed and slowly began to relax his body, laying down over the grass, turning his head to the side. He was _pouting_. “Told you.”

“You tackled me to the ground without any warning. That ain't fair.”

“Oh, yeah, because I politely asked every jap I killed if I could do it. Boy, you are so _clueless_.”

“You call it _clueless_ ” Eugene started, tensing once again and trying to escape, just to get Merriell to place both of his knees of each side his legs. “I call it _fair_.” he finished groaned. “Okay, can you let go?”

Merriell was, perhaps, the furthest you could find to someone who was willing to let this situation just _pass_. He had been desperate for this boy ever since he arrived. Now he had him on the ground, with wrists in his hands. His mind was not really with him, and the little consciousness that lingered there was trying its best to control his body and make sure his blood wouldn't pool in the wrong place. Still, when Eugene struggled, his shoulder blades poked under the fabric of his shirt. Those fucking suspenders did not help in the slightest. They joined right in the middle of his back and then followed his spine, leading where Merriell truly _shouldn't_ look if he didn't want to ruin this. But fucking Hell, it was complicated. So he decided that looking at the opposite direction would be his best choice.

 _Wrong_.

Each time he looked at the back of Eugene's neck, his jaw hurt. He wanted to _bite_ him. Just bite him and mark him and let the world know that this boy had someone back home, waiting for him. Loving him like a desperate fool.

But Eugene looked at him and he had to say something. So Merriell tried to twist the situation and make a joke out of what he was thinking. He leaned forward and hummed, close to Eugene's ear, but not enough to touch it with his lips: “Only if you ask _prettily_.”

But it didn't sound like a joke. Merriell noticed the heaviness on his voice and he could see Eugene's eyes widening a little bit. Fuck, no. That was not supposed to come out like that! Merriell panicked and he was kind of happy that Eugene couldn't see him properly from his position. He struggled to find the words to say. He squeezed his brain until he added: “Either that or I throw you into the bayou, boy.”

The silence continued and Merriell was about to apologize. To say that it had been stupid. That _he_ was stupid. Fucking Hell, Eugene must think he was desperate. That he was betraying his trust. Their friendship. Something that took quite a bit to build. He ruined it just in one second.

“I don't have to.” Eugene finally said. “You _released_ me.”

Merriell blinked and looked down at his hands. They were shaking and no longer touching Eugene. He swallowed thickly. He shifted away and got off him. The veteran felt intrusive in that moment. Like he took advantage of Eugene's innocence in the worst way possible. He felt ashamed. But he tried to grin, to stay calm. _Look_ calm, at least: “Guess you got lucky this time.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Eugene replied, sitting down properly, not looking at him.

Merriell felt like he truly fucked up.

*** * ***

Things got a little bit strange after that day. They were close as as they were before the little accident, but it was like invisible limits had been drawn. Eugene tried to find Merriell's eyes and make jokes, but the other boy would only smile and look away. His shoulders were tense and he kept himself away from Eugene.

How to tell him that he only got scared because the situation happened so suddenly and not because he didn't want to continue and get to explore it a little more? He couldn't stop overthinking and playing the scene in many different ways, saying _something_ or reacting in another way. And he always ended up having the same ending that was the most desired one: being kissed. He wanted to experience that. He really did. Just to feel the softness of another pair of lips pressed against his. Well, not just another. Merriell's. That while always being chapped (he had the bad habit of entertaining himself by biting them) were full and with a beautiful curve right under the nose.

Eugene wanted Merriell to kiss him. He wanted him to do it so he could finally have the excuse to tell him that he loved him. That he gave him everything that he needed to break the heaviest of chains and that, exchange, he was willing to offer pure love. He wanted Merriell to give him the chance so he could prove him that he would look after him, always.

But... How? _How?!_

He was tired of his own ignorance. Even Lou knew how to make a man fall in love with her and he was older than she was. He _should_ know. He should be able to lure him in, capture his attention and make him want to kiss him. Everybody knows how to do that! Main reason why people could find someone to love or just to spend the night with.

Eugene kept looking at Merriell as the boy continued to read. He played with his ring and wasted more time thinking. This time about _God_. But that would send him back to the very beginning and he didn't want to. Not when it had been _so hard_ for him to get there. Instead, he decided to replay some of the things they did together during that week. How Eugene tried to teach Merriell how to play chess just to find out that he was a better strategist than he thought he would be, just a little ruthless and far too impulsive to win. How he spent a whole afternoon asking Merriell for translations of his book, because Eugene _tried_ but he was really not great at French, And then, finally, how Merriell also tried to teach him how to play cards and Eugene, awfully prim, let know that God didn't approve while he still tried to touch Merriell's fingers as much as he could during the game.

He felt like such a hypocrite.

Maybe because he was.

But he wanted to be kissed by him. And maybe he should allow such thing to happen.

Back to the main question: how?

Eugene tried to think about someone that had a significant other for quite some time. And that reduced the list to just a few of the people he knew. And from those, it was Phyllis the one that came to his mind. Phyllis with her blonde hair, her confident smirk and her cigarette stained with red lipstick.

He was nothing like her. He didn't know how to twist the situation to have the upper hand. And for sure he didn't have blonde hair, confidence or smoked. But...

Maybe he _could_ smoke. Smoke was simple and necessarily had to bring other people's attention to his lips. Because he mostly did that with his mouth. So maybe that... That would be his best option. Eugene convinced himself that it was a great wonderful idea because, right now, Merriell was smoking a cigarette while he turned the page his book. _Okay! Good_.

Not giving himself more time to think, Eugene sat down on the couch by Merriell's side. He was nervous, he was almost shaking and it was quite surprising that his voice came out well enough: “Your deductions?”

“This time I'm quite lost...” Merriell admitted, absently, speaking as the cigarette bounced gently over his lower lip. At first Eugene encouraged him to read mystery novels, thinking he would feel interested enough to finish them just to find out who was the one to blame. It made him happy to think he gave Merriell something he ended up enjoying so much.

“You'd make a terrible detective.” Eugene teased wanting to get Merriell's eyes on him.

But the older boy only grinned and said _nothing_.

After trying to not panic or feel crushed by the situation, he decided to continue with his plan and asked: “Give me one?”

“One what?” he frowned.

“ _Cigarette_.”

“You don't smoke.”

Jesus Christ, he was not helping, was he? Eugene nodded and insisted a little bit. “I want to try it.”

“Why?”

“Just give me a cigarette, Merriell.”

“You are not gonna finish it.” he finally looked at him. That was something even if he looked a little irritated.

“You don't know that.” Eugene's voice was defensive. Maybe he should try to make it sweeter. He didn't know how to do that without sounding absolutely stupid or completely childish. None of those would be all that tempting.

Merriell took a long drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in, before he held it with a couple of fingers. He offered it to Eugene. He nodded, shortly and said, letting the toxines slowly leave his lips along with his words: “You try it first.”

Eugene didn't expect him to give him the one he was smoking. That put a weight on his stomach and he shifted a little bit before he asked quite stupidly: “What?”

Merriell grinned, childish and cocky: “It's very easy. Keep the cherry away from your mouth so you won't burn yourself, huh?”

He could be a real pain in the neck, sometimes. Eugene pressed his lips, clearly displeased that his wonderful plan of _seduction_ , that would make him feel like _he_ was in control, easily became Merriell's favourite game. Eugene was stubborn enough to keep trying: he took the cigarette and placed it between his lips. It had no filter or any mark around it, since the older boy did not wear anything on his lips. But Eugene felt that he managed to place his lips exactly where Merriell's had been and that made his thighs feel heavy and his knees weak. Thank God he was sitting down.

Eugene sucked and the smoke filled his mouth, making it both dry and moist at the same time. And just as quickly, he let it go, not even letting the smoke reach his throat. In and out before it could even make him cough. Merriell snorted as Eugene looked absolutely disgusted.

“The fuck was that, Gene?”

He didn't know how he was meant to talk while keeping the cigarette in his mouth without dropping it. Thankfully, Merriell took it for him.

“That's not how you fuckin' do it.” he scolded him before he made sure that the cigarette would keep burning. He remembered Sid talking about indirect kisses, back in high school. And how those seemed to be _a big deal_ when they were fourteen years old. Now that Eugene was twenty-two, he didn't know if he should still feel impressed by them, but he sure couldn't stop about it. Their lips touched the very same cigarette. And that made him feel shy. Perhaps he was a _prude_ , after all.

“Then how do you do it?” Eugene snapped.

“You gotta savor it. Keep it in your mouth.” With his free hand, he made a move so Eugene would come closer. The younger man did so, while frowning a little bit. Merriell placed the cigarette back on his mouth, He could feel the calluses over the soft and smooth skin of his lips. His fingers hardened considerably during war, but before that, they were already rough and a little twisted after working so much since he was nothing but a young boy. Eugene closed his eyes and breathed gently: the touch of experience felt good over his mouth. “ _Suck_.” Merriell mumbled, and his voice came out in a similar fashion as that other day after their failed race. Eugene felt nervous, but not enough to be _scared_. He did what he was told and Merriell moved his hand away from his mouth, cupping Eugene's jaw, observing him. “Hold it.” Merriell caressed his throat with his thumb and Eugene didn't know if it was him who made his lungs feel suffocated or the smoke.

Probably the second. Eugene's entire neck contracted and his lugs _rejected_ that new habit. He had to turn his head away as he started coughing, covering his mouth with his hand. The smoke slipped through his fingers and his palm ended up moist. It was quite disgusting. But it looks so good. And he was willing to do it again just to get Merriell that close.

The veteran chuckled, lowly, and cleaned one of the tears that rolled down Eugene's eyes after coughing until his throat even felt raw. “First times are always a little _disappointing_.”

He couldn't possibly argue with him.

*** * ***

Eugene didn't feel in control of his life and he absolutely hated it.

Now he knew what he wanted. _Good_. He accepted himself and his feelings for Merriell. _Great_. He was willing to take a step forward and dare to see what happens. _Fantastic_. And yet, nothing is going his way. Not even with a damn cigarette in his mouth and with Merriell's hand on his throat he got him to kiss him. Maybe Merriell truly didn't like him. Not like that. Maybe just like a friend. Or even a younger brother.

Eugene _shivered_ just to think about that option.

He dragged his feet as he walked out of the building. A whole day in college wasted because his romantic life is, as always, going absolutely nowhere when he finally really wanted it to. It's truly about being ready, isn't it? Funny how the same situation that never bothered you before could become such a problem when you finally wanted it to happen.

 _Perhaps it's human nature to want what we don't have_ , Eugene considered. And perhaps life only gives you exactly what you _don't_ need in the same moment when you can't possibly deal with it. So you will either make a mistake or not be able to take care of the issue properly.

“You are a sight for sore eyes!”

He would recognize that voice _anywhere_. Eugene stopped right in his tracks and turned a little bit. Sid had still the very same childish smirk as he did when he first saw him in their church. No matter what, Eugene would still see that little boy that was a little naughty and always willing to mess around with him. Even now when he was wearing a suit and styled his hair properly with some pomade, making his blonde hair a couple of shades darker.

Eugene was unable to find his voice to say anything. He could only think: _God, no, please. No. Not now. Not him_.

He was such a terrible friend, wasn't he?

Sid pulled him into a tight hug and smiled against his neck, patting his back. Eugene couldn't even rest a hand over the expensive fabric of his jacket.

 


	16. Vault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He now understood the idea of bliss. How only having the right person by your side could do you so much good. With Merriell, he could see Heaven from their house. He only had to look up and observe the white clouds and hear the sacred songs falling gently over them like soft rain. Now that Sid was also there, he felt like he built a vault that stood in the middle between them and the divine sky.
> 
> Eugene didn't love Sid any less, neither he hated him. He was his friend. And he made him very happy for plenty of years. He used to admire him. But now... Sid was unbearably human. He made mistakes, ran his mouth, was unfaithful to Mary and tensed his shoulders, insecure and small, when it got dark. He didn't idolize him anymore. It was about time, Eugene was no longer a little boy who needed protection or to be comforted because life could get too difficult, sometimes.
> 
> OR
> 
> GTFO, Sid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, if Sid is your fave, I am SORRY, because this makes him look like he is very annoying and clueless and he is taking all the wrong choices. But honestly? It will get worse in the next chapter. So... I'm sorry, I don't want to make him look like he is the bad guy here. He is not! He is just... eh. An idiotic boy. And he wants his friend back. So get ready because... y'know. He is there to stop all the good moments between Eugene and Merry. 
> 
> And second! Thank you so much to everybody who left a comment this week. It really helped me to decide to keep the chapters between 5,000 and 7,000 words (a little more if I truly need it). It wouldn't make any sense to change the pace of the story now that it's when it's getting more interesting and those two are closer than ever. Also, if I make them any shorter, I will never finish this story. And I want to!
> 
> ANYWAY. I hope you enjoy this. I liked the idea of having to face an old friend that doesn't really know you anymore. Let me know what you think!  
> Enjoy! :)

“What are you doing here?” Eugene couldn't help but ask.

“Hell, Eugene, pretend you are happy to see me, at least.” Sid joked as he stepped back, still holding his arms with his hands: strong, not letting him go. “Look at you.” he mumbled to himself. Eugene felt uncomfortable, like he couldn't possibly match Sid's expectations. Not anymore. “You've _changed_ a lot.”

The world _change_ did not sit well with Eugene. He remembered his father saying how he looked different because he was finally happy with who he was, not because he had to change anything. Still, he smiled a little bit and shrugged: “Guess I did.”

Sid continued to look at him, smiling with tenderness, and Eugene felt like he was about to fall from that high pedestal he put him in. He hugged him for a second time and Eugene awfully guilty. Selfish. Careless. Just... cruel. Like he left Sid behind. Like he abandoned him and stopped caring about him. This time he could hold him back, weakly patting his back.

Sid decided to get his hands off him: “You stopped writing, bastard.” he added with a voice that perhaps didn't aim to sound hurt but did.

“I got busy.” that excuse was both weak and lazy. Sid didn't even blink, so Eugene continued: “I...” he gestured behind him, at the building. “Becoming a doctor is harder than I thought.”

“Yeah, I recall you saying that you _didn't_ want to be a doctor, _no matter what_.” Sid grinned.

“People could get some help around here.” Eugene shrugged. That's all he wanted to do: help. Give them what they needed. And yet he had been unable to be there for his best friend.

“What? You're going to _stay_?” Sid snorted like the idea was beyond stupid.

Eugene parted his lips and closed them. Sid frowned, looking confused and for sure expecting that the other boy would follow him back to Mobile blindly.

“Uh.” Eugene looked around and said. “Let's just have a drink. I bet you have plenty of things to tell me.”

Knowing Sid, he would love to spend the afternoon talking about himself and everything he's done until that very same moment.

Once they settled down at the cafe and both of them played with their warm cups, having sips here and there, Eugene finally dared to start the conversation: “What are your plans?” the more he asked Sid about his, the less the other will pry on his own.

“I'm working, so that's...” he made a movement with his hand as a way to say: _steady_. Like he didn't have to worry about that for a while. Perhaps, someday, if he ever got sick and tired of it. “And Mary and I... Well.” he shrugged a little bit. “We decided to delay the wedding.”

“Why?” Eugene tilted his head.

“Her mother is sick. She has to take care of her, since she is the youngest.” Sid replied as he looked around.

“You don't sound too worried about it.”

“I'm not.”

“I thought that Mary Houston was the love of your life? Your only sunshine?” Eugene dared to tease, aiming to recover that familiarity between the two of them that seemed to be lost.

“Mary is great. And I love her.” Sid began. “I truly do. She's the best thing that could happen to me.” he doesn't sound like the boy that was head over heels. More like a man making excuses. “It's just that...” he licked his lips. “Something happened during the war.”

Eugene frowned.

“I met a girl in Australia. Her name was Gwen.” Sid finally confessed.

“You fell in love with her?”

“Oh, no. Jesus, no.” he shook his head.

“Then, what is it?” he really couldn't understand.

Sid looked around once again before he leaned in. Eugene didn't know if he wanted to listen to that overly intimate story. But he forced himself to be a good friend. “I had sex with her. I'm not lying.”

Okay, he _really_ didn't want to talk about those things with him. “Oh.”

“And it was... fun. And _easy_.” Sid sighed. “Very different from what I have with Mary. It's always so... complicated. And so slow. And frustrating. I love her. And I want her to be my wife, but... That's the thing, Eugene. You can have fun. You should have fun before getting married.”

Sid was making a simple truth have more meaning than it did: “You _cheated_ on her?”

The blonde boy cleared his throat and sipped his drink.

“Sid, you _stupid_ idiot.” Eugene huffed. “Why would you do that?!”

“Girls love war heroes.” and that excuse sounded so tremendously illogical, and maybe he noticed because he felt the need to add: “And it's not like she _knows_.”

“You never told her?”

“What she doesn't know won't hurt her.”

“How many times.” Eugene asked, strictly.

“... Just a couple.”

“ _Sid_.”

“Six.” Sid finally said.

“And how many girls?”

“Four.” he grumbled.

“That's...” _repulsive_. Eugene was raised to condemn such thing. Loyalty and fidelity are something you _owe_ your beloved one. They are not an option. If you decide to be with someone, you have to give them nothing but the truth. He would never cheat on Merriell. Not matter what. “That's so stupid of you, Sid.”

“How would you know.” Sid mumbled, bitterly.

“Excuse me?” Eugene raised his eyebrows.

“You never had a girlfriend. You don't really know how complicated it can get.”

He knew how it was to want to have a boyfriend while being a man himself. He had an idea of how _complicated_ things could get. He had been having a little taste of complicated for... what? The last four years? Eugene tensed his jaw, forcing himself to not snap at him. “It's _common sense_.”

“It's way harder than that. I _love_ her.”

“You don't love her all too well if you trick her.”

“I'm just having some fun before getting married. _Everybody_ does that.”

Eugene didn't know how often it was for people to sleep around, and honestly, he didn't care. He could only speak from his experience and his own opinion: he didn't want to do it. He understood that sex was something that should happen with the one you love. If others wanted to have fun and do it for the sake of it, then he had no word in that. It was up to _them_. But if theirs acts were hurting another person or betraying their trust, then he thought that was _reprehensible_ at least.

“You have to stop.” Eugene finally said. “Before it gets any worse. Before you lose her.”

“I won't lose her. She loves me.”

Was that enough of a reason to take someone for granted? Eugene didn't feel like it was. “Then maybe you should figure yourself out and learn how to _behave_ before you get married and _ruin_ her life.”

“Ruin her life!” he huffed. “A bit rough, don't you think?”

“Oh, then how would you call getting married to someone that has sex with other girls behind your back?” It was humiliating and harmful.

“Why do you take her side?” Sid frowned.

“I'm not taking anyone's side.”

“Clearly you are. But your opinion means _nothing_ , here. You've never been in love. And you never had the chance to either say yes or _no_.”

Eugene looked away and licked his lips. He'd say no. He would never risk losing Merriell. And in the same way, he knew it would break his heart if he ever found out that the other had been unfaithful. And they weren't anything more than friends! Just to imagine how much he would suffer, he decided that it was not worth it. No matter how good the sex could be. Even if he didn't know how pleasurable and addictive it could be. _Yet_.

Sid rubbed his eyes and sighed: “I'm sorry. That was... Surely there has been a girl, during these years.”

Eugene didn't even bother himself to answer that.

*** * ***

Sid was going to stay during the whole weekend and Eugene wanted to scream. He wanted to ask him to leave. That he couldn't stay and ruin this for him. That this was not his place. Eugene wanted to push Sid away. His only presence made him feel trapped. Like he had to behave in the very same way he did while he was in Mobile. He didn't want to. That was not him. Never was.

Instead, he only smiled and nodded. He said that he could find him a good hotel. Sid insisted that he didn't mind sleeping on his couch for a couple of nights. Well. He did. And that truly made him a terrible friend. Sid surely deserved far more than that even if he lost some of his charm after his confession.

Eugene tried to ignore the incessant questions about the possible girl he dated and he never told Sid about. Or that he was _still_ dating. Eugene almost felt like he had been living a far too easy life, without worrying about the weight of having to pretend anything. Still, he was unable to tell Sid that there wasn't any girl. That there would _never_ be any girl. Not like _that_.

Thankfully, Sid got distracted by the view and forgot, for a while, about Eugene's _non-existent_ romantic life. The bayou was intimidating. Eugene was not all to pleased to know that he would be living above the water, the first time he arrived here. And he was lucky enough that Merriell's house was at least built over grass and mud and not casually suspended over the murky waters by some wood that could rot and break at any moment. Sid furrowed his nose and Eugene didn't like that. He didn't like it one bit. He was taking him to the house he shared with Merriell. The house he learned to love tremendously and did so much good for Eugene. Even if at first made him cry and burned his very soul.

“Okay, Gene. I think you can end the joke.” Sid said as soon as they stepped out of the little boat. He was still holding his suitcase close his chest, frowning and looking around. “Is this some sort of haunted house?”

“This is where I live, Sid.” Eugene affirmed, not stopping because of his friend's confusion. His stomach was tight and nervous just to imagine Merriell and Sid in the same room.

“You _can't_ be serious.” he insisted before he followed him.

Eugene took a deep breath and finally opened the door. Sid only seemed to snort at the fact that they didn't have a lock. Eugene doubted they would ever get one. No one ever comes around this part of the bayou. Not that it was thought to be cursed or anything like that unlike Mamaw's hut (she didn't help to improve that reputation). It was just that there was truly not _that much_ to do around there.

“Mer?” he asked. “I'm home!”

“ _Mer_?” Sid quickly repeated, raising his eyebrows. He smiled wide and foolish, grabbing Eugene's elbow and whispering on his ear, somehow childish and overly excited: “Meryl, Meredith, Meribeth?”

Eugene felt annoyed by his behavior. Sid had no malice, he was truly not a cruel boy. If he ever offended someone it was because he wasn't thinking properly, not because he planned exactly on how to hurt them. Eugene knew because he had been his friends since they were children, and he knew that Sid was only acting like a thrilled teenager because he never saw Eugene properly having romantic feelings for any girl. Eugene was well aware of all of that and it still bothered and frustrated him. Because he didn't have to explain each time who he was and why other people were wrong about him. So he snorted and pushed him away, something Sid took as the other boy being a little rowdy and perhaps even ashamed. But that was before Eugene corrected him and said: “ _Merriell_.”

And just like he had been summoned, Merriell appeared.

Even if he wasn't wearing his shoes, this time he was wearing his shirt, with the sleeves rolled all the way up to his biceps. He was drying his forearms with a towel, moist with soapy water and foam. He probably had been doing the laundry in the back of their house. It drove him insane when Merriell did it, mostly because he had the terrible habit to smoke while washing their clothes, getting ash all over them. Now he felt like Eugene couldn't complain much since he now decided he was going to start smoking, too. And even though, in that moment of tension, Eugene wanted to focus on anything that would help him ignore what was truly happening. So the cigarette on his mouth gave him the perfect excuse.

“Told you to _not_ do that.”

“And _still_ I wash your clothes. You are welcome, Sledgehammer.”

It was like Merriell didn't want to deal with the situation either. He tried to not look at Sid until he had to. Those seconds were simply terrible. Merriell looked at Eugene, Eugene looked at Merriell and Sid looked at them both, in silence and perhaps drawing conclusions. Or merely being disappointed. Perhaps... Perhaps Sid would think poorly of the situation, and yet, that was the situation Eugene wanted to have. How frustrating would it be for Sid assume that they are together when they aren't even if Eugene _truly_ wants them to.

So Eugene cleared his throat and introduced them: “Sid, this is Merriell. Merriell, this is Sid Phillips. My best friend. From Alabama.” Funny how Sid had a surname, a title and a provenance and Merriell was just _Merriell_. He wouldn't even know how start explaining who Merriell was. The last time he saw Sid, Merriell didn't even exist to Eugene.

But now he does. And _everything_ is different.

When Sid stepped forward and offered his hand to Merriell, it was like two worlds were about to collide and nothing but chaos could come out of that. Eugene's forehead was even moist of how tense and unsure he felt.

Peace didn't come after Merriell shook Sid's hand. “Nice to meet you.” said Sid.

Merriell didn't answer. He just returned his hands to his hips, the towel now resting over his left shoulder.

And then silence again. This was so _unnatural_.

Eugene couldn't possibly tell what was going on inside of Merriell's mind. He had never seen him interact with someone he didn't know. He was just looking. Staring. Not saying a word. That _couldn't_ be good.

Of course, it goes without saying that Merriell antagonized Sid right away.

He saw this as an attack. Someone that comes into his home to take something away from him. _Someone_. Why would he be here, anyway? For a friendly visit? Bullshit. He would have warned Eugene. Said something. Why was he even here? These people are supposed to be fancy kind. Show their good manners at every single moment. And yet, there he was. In his fucking house, thinking that he could take Eugene back to Mobile. _Stay away, that boy ain't yours anymore_. That was all his mind could tell him.

“Uh...” Eugene cleared his throat. “Come with me.” Eugene held Sid's arm and that detail was quickly caught by Merriell's overly analytical eyes.

Sid followed him and Eugene started to arrange the couch, to make a decent bed out of it. Merriell leaned against the frame of the door. He could offer his bed. He could say: _Hey, Eugene's best friend, take my bed. You are our guest, stay with us as much as you want_. Fuck that, he already wanted him to _leave_. Neither he did a single thing to help Eugene out. In any other situation, if it was Eugene the one that just arrived, Merriell would do anything to get him comfortable. Not for this Sid Phillips boy.

And not to speak about the fact that Eugene was making a bed and the other boy was leaving his suitcase on the floor and taking his jacket off. It looked... It made him _angry_. He didn't like how that looked like. Merriell crossed his arms.

Sid turned and looked at him. Merriell raised his chin, not caring if he looked challenging or plainly rude. “So you two been living together for long?” he asked.

“Merriell came back from the Pacific in February. So just for a few months.” Eugene answered for him, knowing that Merriell was not in a chatty mood.

“You are a Marine too?” Sid tried once again.

Merriell knew that about him. He stole his letter in Guadalcanal, after all. “King Company.” Merriell replied, shortly.

“How Company.” Sid touched his own chest, smiling. “But I came back right after Gloucester.”

Yeah, well. He's not surprised. They try to make it look like everybody who becomes Marine is exactly the same. That's why they left him until the very end and then six months more. Because he's exactly the same as other Marines that could go back home way sooner without a single scratch on them.

“I'm still eager to find out why New Orleans is such a great city and why he won't come back home.” It was like Sid was trying to be friendly to Merriell's eyes. And that was the most insulting thing he could tell him. _Home_. Like this is not home, already.

“Sid, I told you. I'm studying here.” Eugene interrupted them once again.

“You can finish your degree in Mobile.” Sid grinned once again. “There's a girl and you are not telling me. But I'll find out.” Once again he turned at Merriell one last time. “She must be gorgeous and truly worth it. He moved here little after I left, you know?”

Yes, he knows.

“Four years chasing a girl.” Sid convinced himself. It _had_ to be that. Why would he refuse to come back, if not? Why would he leave him behind if it wasn't for his future wife? Sid knew that their friendship could compete against many things, but not against love. That was... Well! His future family. He could take Eugene and his girl back home. _Anything_ to have his best friend back. “You clearly need my help.” he reached out and messed Eugene's hair who pushed him away with his forearm, grumbling.

He truly had no idea, did he?

Merriell decided that he didn't want to deal with this. So while those two boys wrestled around, he left without saying a single word. When Sid noticed, he huffed and said: “He has no manners, does he?”

Eugene had to bit his lips to not defend Merriell.

*** * ***

Merriell was glad that Eugene decided to _not_ take Sid to Mamaw's. He didn't want that plague to spread. He wanted to have a place Sid Phillips could not corrupt. He wouldn't appreciate it and neither would Mamaw. She was the woman that rised him. She didn't want people in her home that she didn't know.

He didn't even have a moment alone with Eugene to ask when he was going to leave. _Soon_ , he hoped. But by now, there he was, stuck in that fucking bar with those two because he simply didn't want Eugene to be alone with Sid Phillips. He wanted to steal him away right under his nose. All he wanted to do was to wrap his arm around Eugene's shoulders, kiss him and say: _there's no girl, fool_. Instead, he took another sip of his drink.

The only good thing he noticed was that the more those two spoke, the thicker Eugene's accent got. It wouldn't simply fade away for being in another state for a few years, but it was surely more noticeable now that he was constantly talking with someone who dragged the words in the very same way. Other than that, this situation was terrible.

And about to get _worse_.

When Lou arrived (it was a bit of a tradition for them to meet there), Sid jumped into conclusions. Eugene felt mortified each time he asked about him to her. He ended up despising the idea of being related to her like that. She was part of his family. And Eugene was already in love. So she was. People should stop assuming things. He should stop being worried to either be paired up with someone or not.

Sid was painfully obvious. And at some point, Lou grabbed Eugene's arm and asked him to walk out of the bar with her. She sounded strict and a little dry when she said: “Cut this shit, Eugene.”

“Lou...” he began, about to tell her that she should just stop paying attention to him. To shake it off. Maybe he just didn't want to deal with a situation. Or use her as a way to keep Sid from seeing the truth. He didn't know. He honestly didn't know because Sid's presence was making him stupid and a complete liar.

“ _No_.” she interrupted him quite brutally. “I don't care. Stop this. It's weird. I hate it!”

Eugene looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I told him there was no girl. He's just obsessed with it.”

“Of course he is. You left Mobile years ago. He won't be able to understand why you won't go back if you don't let him know why you are here!” she huffed. “Look. I'm goin' home. This is stupid. The last thing I need is people gossipin' and my Robert thinking I'm playin' with him.”

Eugene wished he had the guts to say _my Merriell_ in public. In front of Sid. So he would understand and stop. Or maybe he wouldn't understand, but for sure, he would stop.

“I'm sorry.” he sighed.

“Well. This _only_ ruins my night, but be careful with Merry. He didn't look happy about it.”

Eugene nodded and needed a couple of seconds before going back inside of the bar.

Meanwhile, Merriell was left alone with Sid and he was fucking angry. Almost _green_ with envy. Merriell liked boys in the same way he liked girls. But he never liked anyone more than Eugene. He loved Eugene. He had to start using that word; he had to be honest with himself. He loved Eugene and he had been introduced as _Merriell_. Just like that. And quickly fell into the category of some deadbeat housemate. Like... Like Eugene wasn't _his_. Like Eugene was not the main reason why he could still keep his mind with him after all the shit he saw. Like Eugene was not the one that was meant to be in his life since the very beginning.

He was no one and now Sid fucking Phillips had the guts to assume that it was Lou the one that stole Eugene's heart. Just because she was the only girl around. In that moment, he hated her, he hated Sid and he even hated Eugene. What? He was not _worth_ being considered as the one Eugene loved?

And he _knew_. That was fucking stupid. The last thing you want is people noticing that you might be in love with another man. There are some crazy bastards out there ready to turn your life into a godamn nightmare for that only reason. And while he wasn't scared of anyone anymore, he knew that he would _kill_ if someone harmed Eugene.

So there he was: angry, frustrated and wanting Sid Phillips back on a fucking train so they could be themselves once again.

But Sid was _still_ trying to speak to him. “We've been friends since we were little. I know everything about him.” the blonde spoke with warm arrogance. Like he was _proud_ that he was friends with Eugene. “He was always there for me. And I was always there for him. Even when other kids made fun of him. I was there.” Yeah, Merriell didn't think that he should even say that. You don't protect someone just to brag about it. “And he always gave me the best advice. I need him.” he chuckled. “I've been doing plenty of stupid things since he was gone. I'm not leaving without him.” he grinned, boyish. “My life depends on him.”

 _Then fucking perish, you are taking him nowhere_ , Merriell thought.

He looked away and ignored the fact that Sid snorted at his lack of manners. He only pressed his lips when he saw Eugene walking their way.

Eugene, forgetting about any decorum, slipped his fingers inside of Merriell's chest pocket and got his pack of cigarettes. He put one between his lips.

“You smoke, now?” Sid tilted his head, surprised. Surely Eugene changed a lot.

He started smoking literally last night. Twenty-four hours that made his relationship with Merriell take to steps backwards. He nodded a little stiffly before he looked at Merriell. He offered him the cigarette he was currently smoking and Eugene pressed the end of his against the burning cherry and started to inhale. He needed to calm down or he was going to say something tremendously stupid.

Sid was turning around, raising his chin a little bit, clearly trying to spot Lou among the people inside the bar. “Where is she?” Surely he had to convince the girl to pack her stuff and move to Mobile with Eugene. He was not going to come back without the certainty that Eugene would be there with him until the very end. He needed his best friend by his side.

“Lou got tired of your question.” Eugene answered dryly.

“She left for something I said?” Sid asked, beyond oblivious.

Eugene raised his eyebrows and blinked. “Well of cour—”

“She left because you were annoyin' as fuck and because she has a boyfriend.” Merriell snapped.

Eugene closed his eyes and cursed mentally. Yeah, clearly Merriell was not happy. Neither was Sid. And if anyone cared about his opinion, Eugene already felt overwhelmed. Balance those two was impossible. And they've barely been around each other for longer than twenty minutes.

Sid was about to speak when Merriell stood up. “I'm tired. I'm goin' home.” And without even letting Eugene to convince him to stay, he _left_.

“Jesus Christ, Eugene, you housemate _is_ an asshole.” Sid huffed and Eugene took a long drag of cigarette to keep himself silent.

*** * ***

Eugene barely slept that night. He felt anxious and dizzy and it was like that first terrible night in New Orleans. He felt like the Eugene he once was wanted to take control of him once again: silent and scared. Willing to do anything he was told just to not have to take decisions for himself and feel sheltered by everybody around him.

He hated it.

He didn't want to be that person anymore. He was _happy_. He was so tremendously happy with Merriell. He now understood the idea of bliss. How only having the right person by your side could do you so much good. With Merriell, he could see Heaven from their house. He only had to look up and observe the white clouds and hear the sacred songs falling gently over them like soft rain. Now that Sid was also there, he felt like he built a vault that stood in the middle between them and the divine sky.

Eugene didn't love Sid any less, neither he hated him. He was his friend. And he made him very happy for plenty of years. He used to _admire_ him. But now... Sid was unbearably human. He made mistakes, ran his mouth, was unfaithful to Mary and tensed his shoulders, insecure and small, when it got dark. He didn't idolize him anymore. It was about time, Eugene was no longer a little boy who needed protection or to be comforted because life could get too difficult, sometimes.

That morning Eugene mourned the loss of that childish naivety that gave his friend a power and a role that, perhaps, had been a bit too much for a boy that was his same age and probably also had the same fears. A boy whose soul was paler than it used to be, trembling and sewn together with doubt and incertainty but with the conviction that he had to run forward to escape the current dilemma he was trying to avoid. Like getting married even if he wanted to enjoy life and have sex with as many girls as he could.

Eugene should go back to Alabama with Sid. Help him heal. Make sure he would have a happy life. But he won't. Because he is, once again, a terrible friend and a very selfish man. And because of that, he was willing to let Sid corner him until he left. Who cared if he had to pretend for a couple of days more?

A hand over his hand forced him out of his thoughts. Eugene turned his head and he felt relief when he saw it was Merriell.

“It's very early.” he mumbled, with a very low voice.

“I couldn't sleep.” Eugene already entertained himself making him a cup coffee.

His hand moved from Eugene's back towards his hip, digging his thumb against the curve: gentle and affectionate. Eugene almost wanted to sigh. Ever since Sid arrived, he barely got to be close to him. Just to get a cigarette last night. He was _dying_ for him already, wasn't he? He couldn't stand physical separation even for a few hours.

He added four spoons of sugar to Merriell's cup and offered it to him. He thanked Eugene with a small and silent smile.

Eugene took his own, letting it warm his hands as he looked at the door of the kitchen that led towards the living room, where Sid was. Probably still sleeping, he kept his voice low and soft when he asked: “Are you mad at me?”

Merriell frowned a little bit and asked back at him: “Should I?”

Eugene shrugged a little bit. “Maybe. I'm sorry if you are.”

“I'm not.” He had been for a little bit, last night. It was not Eugene's fault. “When is he leavin'?”

“Sunday.”

“Good.” Soon, but not soon enough.

Merriell was about to leave, perhaps go back to his room, but Eugene reached out to hold his forearm with delicate fingers. Merriell was shirtless, as usual, so Eugene could brush his thumb over his flesh. Merriell licked his lips and stepped forward.

“What do you want?” he asked with a husky voice. Maybe because he just woke up. Maybe not.

“Just want to make sure we are okay.” Eugene forced himself to say. He couldn't be a coward, now. Not when Merriell could misunderstand what was truly going on. He didn't want to ignore him. He didn't want him to feel dismissed. He just didn't know how to handle the situation.

“I'm okay. Are you okay?” Eugene nodded far too weakly to be sincere. “Then we are okay.”

Eugene looked down and smiled a bit. “Are you lying?”

“I'm not. But _you_ are.” Merriell focused his eyes on Eugene's hair. He left the cup away and ran his fingers through those red locks he loved before he even saw them. “Look at me.” he mumbled. Eugene needed a couple of seconds, but he looked up. Merriell cupped his jaw and squeezed the back of his neck, tenderly. “You don't have to be any different because he's here. If he is you friend, if he truly is, he will understand _anythin'_ you might want to tell him or let him know. You don't have to be afraid.”

“I'm not lying.” Eugene was far from sounding or looking convinced. “I feel like I'm always speaking half-truths. Like... If I keep doing this, I will never be myself. And I'm tired of that.” he had been trying so hard to break that shell that overprotected his soul. That suffocated it.

Merriell stepped even closer, cupping his other cheek as well. “I know you, Gene.” his voice was so sweet that Eugene had to close his eyes, not wanting them to become moist or sad.

After nodding, Eugene felt the weight of Merriell's forehead against his. His skin was warm and his curls tickled him. He opened his eyes once again, eager to see the sight of Merriell's face so close to him. He licked his lips when he noticed that Merriell was finally looking at them. It was finally going to happen? Was he about to reveal the most evident truth about himself? His heart became nervous and his lungs felt all tight. But he still parted his lips as an invitation.

Merriell couldn't do this anymore. Maybe the fact that he saw Eugene so far from him for less than a day it was what made him want to rush everything. The fear of Eugene telling him that he had to go back to Mobile, because his friends and family needed him there. He didn't want to lose his chance. He didn't want to regret not being fully sincere. And he didn't want to punish himself because he never got to taste his lips. Even if it was just once. But he wanted more than that. He didn't only want one kiss. He wanted a whole life with him.

It was going to happen. And it would have happened if they had been alone.

But they weren't.

“ _Eugene_!”

Sid was _still_ there.

Eugene pressed his lips tightly into a thin line of pure frustration. Merriell turned his head and groaned, stepping back and leaving Eugene cold and alone in the kitchen. He brushed his hair back and looked around, regretting that there wasn't any mirror around. He felt guilty enough for him to fear that he even had it written all over his forehead. He was truly not in control of his life.

“...Coming!” he finally sighed.

 


	17. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don't believe in anything?”  
> Not in God, that was for sure. Neither he believed in the mystères. Did that make him a non-believer? “I believe in you. And I believe in me.” And perhaps, he believed in the both of them, as well. “And I believe we are in this church for a reason. Because you needed God and because I needed to see you.”
> 
> OR
> 
> ....Dude, like. F I N A L L Y.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! I upload sooner than usual because I'm happy.
> 
> I'm not going to say anything, this time. YOU tell me what you think. But, seriously. It was about time!!!

Sid didn't like this situation. He didn't like New Orleans, he didn't like the house, he didn't like Eugene's housemate and perhaps he didn't even like Eugene.

At least, he knew he didn't like _this_ Eugene. This one was distant, didn't smile at him as often as he used to and for some reason felt like he had to stay here. What was so important that wouldn't let him go back home? He had been trying to find out who was the mysterious girl (love was the only valid reason for him to not want to choose his family or his best friend), but when he brought it up, Eugene became quiet and looked awfully displeased. Like the idea of him being in love was absolutely _insulting_.

Well, it was going to happen sooner or later. Eugene was a boy like any other. He would fall in love. But there was something else. There was something he couldn't see. And it kept him awake at night. Not to talk about how uncomfortable that couch was. Sid promised himself after the war that he would never go through unnecessary discomfort ever again. Now, look at him. In an ugly haunted house, sleeping on a couch for _him_. If this doesn't turn him into the best friend a man could have then... What would?

Sid turned a little bit and felt his back tight and pulling. It was killing him. He sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to get some more sleep. It was still very early.

His mind wouldn't shut up.

When he left and Eugene stayed, Sid assumed that Eugene would _never_ leave Mobile. That there was nothing out there for him. That he would wait until Sid would come back. And that made him happy, just the certainty that when he would go back, everything would be the same. It was a good reason to carry on and survive. But quickly he discovered that Eugene left. And he never really bothered himself to tell Sid why. Then he used the excuse of wanting to finish his degree there. In that college that was truly not _that_ great.

Everything was dreadfully mediocre and Sid asked himself: _he could have it so much better with me back home and he would still rather stay here? Why?_

It was complicated to not feel betrayed. It was complicated to not feel like Eugene didn't appreciate their friendship anymore. It made him sad and angry. This poor miserable life was better than being with your best friend?

Maybe he should try to speak with him. Tell him how he felt. Mary always said that the best way to be happy was to be sincere. Even if you make a mistake, you'll have the reassurance that you never tried to trick or hurt someone else on purpose.

Before he could start to feel guilty about not being truthful with Mary, Sid heard the creaking sound of the stairs. It was probably Eugene. He could stand up and just go. Talk to him. _Hey, I'm willing to listen to you. What's going on?_

Maybe his excuse would be enough. Maybe not.

No, nothing could be more important to him than their friendship. They've been friends since they were little. He couldn't have forgotten him so easily! What about all those years when pretty much all Eugene had was Sid? He missed that. He missed... He missed Eugene as _his_ friend. He didn't think it was selfish to what to recover what used to make him so happy. Everybody wants to keep in their life the ones that make it so much better.

Before Sid had the time to finally take a decision and get off the couch, he heard the stairs creaking once again. And that had to be _Shelton_.

He didn't understand their relationship in the slightlest. They didn't look too friendly. Shelton didn't look like a person you could speak to for more than a couple of minutes. Yesterday, he barely talked back at him and when he did, it was mostly to act like a complete asshole. Sid tried to compare their relationship with the one he had with Eugene. His was _better_. Far more intimate. Sid even doubted that they were friends at all. Maybe Eugene, being the good person that he was, decided to move in with the veteran that barely made enough money to support himself, even less pay rent. It had be something like that.

Eugene would never become friends with a sour son of a bitch. That's for sure. And maybe Shelton was taking advantage of Eugene, milking him dry like a goddamn leech. If that was the case, Eugene was going back to Alabama with him either he wants it or not.

That was when Sid stood up and carefully walked towards the kitchen, hiding behind the wall a little bit. It was not okay to spy on people, but there was something he was missing. And he wanted to know how _serious_ this situation truly was.

“...are okay.” he could only hear Shelton say.

“Are you lying?” Sid crossed his arms and rested his head against the wall, mostly seeing Shelton and Eugene's hair and shoulders.

“I'm not. But _you_ are.” Shelton's fingers invaded Eugene's space, moving through his locks. Sid frowned and tilted his head to be able to see a little more. “Look at me.” Shelton's hand on Eugene's neck made him feel uneasy. Nervous. He should go back to the couch. Pretend that none of this was happening. Still, Sid found himself unable to move in that very moment and that bastard kept talking: “You don't have to be any different because he's here. If he is your friend, if he truly is, he will understand _anythin'_ you might want to tell him or let him know. You don't have to be afraid.”

Understand _what_? There was _nothing_ to understand.

“I'm not lying.” Eugene's voice was thin and insecure as it was when they were children. “I feel like I'm always speaking half-truths. Like... If I keep doing this, I will never be myself. And I'm tired of that.” What does that even mean? Eugene has always been sincere with him. He _knew_ him. Far better than anyone else. Only Sid knew him as he is. He has known him his whole life. There was no one who could be able to understand him better than Sid did.

And perhaps, the most harmful and shocking thing was not that Shelton was trying to kill the distance between their lips. Perhaps, what Sid hated and despised the most was how he said: “I know you, Gene.” like he just erased Sid from Eugene's life. _Just like that_.

Sid could finally step back and quickly go back to the couch. He had to sit down. His temples felt tight and burning his skin. Curiously, the back of his neck was covered by a thin yet frozen layer of sweat. _No_. This couldn't be. This couldn't happen.

“Eugene!” he called. He had to stop this. This was not Eugene. That was not his friend. He would have known. Eugene would have told him! He would have trusted him with something like that. He couldn't change that much just after a couple of years. Sid refused to accept that Eugene could be that person he just saw in that kitchen.

He _wasn't_.

He was his best friend and that's _all_ he wanted him to be.

*** * ***

Sid acted like a complete _asshole_ during the whole day.

Eugene was taking it simply because he felt like he _deserved_ it. He left Sid behind and never gave him an explanation why he didn't want to go back. He had to deal with the situation just for a few hours more and then he would be free as he had been before he arrived. But it was truly getting unbearable. Sid was quiet, distant and looked at Eugene like he killed his entire family. And when he spoke, it was with anger on his voice that was barely contained. He was dry and snapped at him and said things like: _do whatever you want, as you always do_.

Such a fucking lie.

He always did what others wanted him to do. And to a certain extent, he was still doing that. With him, he was. God forbid he started deciding over himself and his personal life. He didn't need Sid's approval for anything. Then, why was he so scared to tell him the truth? To say: _look, I'm figuring myself out. I like Merriell, and I don't want to go back there because I feel at home here. I can still visit from time to time. I'm sorry you felt abandoned. It was never my intention_.

Eugene said nothing and continued to carry on, letting Sid stomp on his pride.

It was a terrible day but at least Merriell and Sid didn't get to interact with each other. As soon as Sid woke up, Eugene convinced him to go out. To show him around so he could say that he saw every single corner of New Orleans. Merriell usually spent the Saturdays at home, with him. Anything to keep them apart. He felt like a third time would be too much. Like things would get too far. Merriell was keeping himself quiet for Eugene's sake. And Sid would want to know who Merriell was, exactly, and why they had to be living together.

They arrived back home after dinner and Eugene was tired of dragging his soul to keep him satisfied. This was not fair. Alright, he had been a bad friend. And he could have done things way better. But did he truly have to take this? He didn't know, but he was tired. So tired that he barely could keep himself from barking: “What the _Hell_ do you want from me.” right after Sid said _We can do whatever you want to do, as always_.

Not _once_ in his stupid life Eugene did whatever _he_ wanted to do with Sid. They _always_ did what he wanted to do and Eugene had to agree because that had been his role his whole life. Accept what others wanted to do and that's about it.

Sid looked surprised that Eugene finally had the guts to challenge him to talk and stop that passive-aggressive attitude that was absolutely childish and beyond insufferable.

“I've been trying my best to keep you happy. _All day long_. Can you tell me what's wrong?” Eugene insisted a little bit, softening the blow of his previous question.

Sid licked his lips and looked away. “ _You_. You are what's wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Eugene raised his eyebrows, feeling defensive right away.

“We were supposed to be friend our whole lives. And as soon as I leave, you disappear. Without saying anything! You abandoned _me_ like I was nothing!”

Sid was taking this personally and while Eugene couldn't blame him, this situation had nothing to do with him. For once in his life, it had to do with Eugene. And choosing the life he wanted. He was happy here. Why should he leave just to please Sid? He had no owners. He was in control. He had to be in control or his life would go _nowhere_.

“I'm sorry you feel like that.” Eugene began to talk once again, wanting to be calm about this. He didn't want to lose him. He cared about Sid. It was simply more complicated than he thought it would be.

Sid was not giving him even time to talk or explain himself: “You ain't sorry. If you were sorry, you'd come back!”

“I don't want to!” Eugene finally exploded. “I don't want to go back to Mobile. I don't like how life felt like in Mobile! I don't want to ever spend more than a few days there! Only to think about it, I feel suffocated! I am happy here! If you truly cared about me, you would understand that I am allowed to chose where I want to be. I'm not _only_ your friend. I have the right to decide about things I want in my life!”

It only took for Sid to shake his head to reduce Eugene's explanation to some foolish reason. Like he knew better about him or about what he _should_ do.

“You don't even know how it feels like! You had it easy!” Eugene continued, feeling overwhelmed and perhaps even disappointed that Sid refused to listen to him. “You never had to match anyone's expectations. You never had to fight against anything within yourself! I had to be a good son, a good brother, a good friend, a good servant. I can't do this anymore! I don't want to. I don't have to be any of that, here. I'm allowed to be myself. Why would I want to put myself in chains? For you? Well! Maybe I'm selfish, but it's about time I pick myself over someone else!” Everybody was above him. Sid, Eddie, his father, his mother, God. Everybody's else desires and needs had preference over his. He always had to obey them. He was taught to never disappoint anyone, and meanwhile, the one he truly let down was himself. That was no way to _live_.

“It's not about that!” pointed at him with a finger. He was about to _accuse_ him. “I saw you this morning.”

Eugene parted his lips and then he felt like he _truly_ did something wrong. He didn't. The only bad thing that happened that morning was that Sid _interrupted_ them. It was not wrong. It was not... It was what he wanted, and therefore, it was okay. “So?” he finally dared to ask, raising his chin a little bit. “It bothers you?”

“Of course it bothers me, Eugene. That's _not_ you.” Sid stepped forward and put his hands on Eugene's shoulders, cupping the back of his neck so he wouldn't look away. “I know you.” and that sounded so different from how Merriell said it that morning. With Sid, it was an imposition. It was not freeing like it was with the other boy. “You are not _that kind_ of person.”

“What kind of person.” Eugene hissed. Sid shrugged a little bit, like the word was hideous enough just to think about it. “What kind!”

“A _homosexual_! You are not! I would know. _You_ would have told _me_!” Sid replied and Eugene pushed his hands away. “You wouldn't trick me into believing you are something you are not!”

“Trick you! You think this had been easy for me? Like I decided to not let you know because I felt like _playing_ with you?” How could he be so oblivious? So self-centered? “I don't need to confess myself to every single person I know! This is what I am! Does it make me _so_ different? Does it really matter?”

“Yes!” Sid blurted out, killing any sort of hope Eugene had in him being understanding and accepting. “Yes, it changes _everything_! You are no longer the same!” Sid could no longer convince Eugene to bring his beloved one back home. Not when it was Merriell Shelton No one would understand, and everybody would see them.

Here is where he loses Eugene.

And that made him angry and unfair.

Eugene looked sad. And hurt. And right now, Sid thought he was having the worst part.

He wanted to keep Eugene in his life, even if he had to force him out of that madness that _couldn't_ possibly be love. Sid had been through Hell. He came back from war to find a country that was grey and worried. He came back to families that had been hit by tragedy. He came back to a girl that lost her charm. And he came back to a life that no longer allowed him to have his best friend. He was tired of losing.

Sid, as his friend, could not convince Eugene to do anything. But he knew what there were higher authorities for Eugene. Those being his mother and God, Himself. He was used to see Mary Frank preach just to get Eugene to _behave_ when they were little. And when they weren't so little as well. So he decided to do that. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“ _If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them_.” Sid quoted with distant eyes and a steady voice.

From all the things he could have said, that was the most hurtful one. From all the passages, that was the most _unforgiving_. Cruel enough to make Eugene's new found happiness and comfort with his own desires shake.

“How could you say that to me?” he whispered, with a thin voice. Eugene was unable to add anything else, hearing a door slamming against the wall. Eugene feared the worst when he saw Merriell heading towards them.

Of course. Of course he has been there the whole time. Eugene should have kept his mouth shut. “Merriell.” he called his name. He never saw him mad before. Not really. But he could recognize the fire and the wrath on his very spirit. When Merriell reached him to get to Sid, Eugene placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back a bit, to keep him from getting any closer. He was not even looking at him. “Calm down. He didn't mean it.”

“No, I think he meant it alright.” Merriell's voice was different. Took him less time to speak even if it was lower than usual. “Yeah, you meant it, huh?” he tried to get closer once again but Eugene physically stood in his way. Just a hand wouldn't be enough. “C'mon, wanna hear it one more time.”

Eugene couldn't turn and take a look at Sid. As soon as he would do that, he knew that Merriell would jump on him. He had to struggle with him to keep the distance between them from narrowing. The last thing he needed was a stupid fist fight.

“I can tell you what I fucking think about this!” Sid was chosing the worst moment to be brave.

“Oh, go ahead, boy.” Merriell grinned, licking his upper teeth, looking beyond feral. Eugene hissed his name and shook him, but the veteran ignored him.

“You are going to ruin his life. I don't know what kind of person you are. But I can take a good guess by just looking at you.” Eugene had to push Merriell backwards once again. “All you are going to do is keep him away from his family and his friends. The ones that _really_ care about him!”

“Sid, shut the fuck up! Just shut up!” Eugene replied, raising his voice and losing his patience. “Please, stop it!”

“Can't you see? Is he _really_ worth it?” Sid insisted and sounded as frustrated as the other two were. Did he have the right? Eugene didn't know anymore. He just wanted this situation to be over.

“It's up to _me_ to choose! No one else!” Eugene finally cried. Merriell stopped pushing. “It's my decision, for God's sake! Is it so hard to respect what I want? Do I have to ask for permission? I'm tired! I'm tired of this!”

“Gene.” Merriell tried to hold his wrists and Eugene shook his head, moving his hands towards his face, rubbing his eyes.

“It's up to me where I want to live and with who and how! And no one gets to say anything about it!” he gasped one last time before he need to take a big breath to not sob like a foolish boy.

Perhaps that finally showed Sid that he went a bit too far. He tried to touch Eugene's shoulder, but Merriell was quick to wrap his arm around him, not letting him to even lay a finger on the redhead. “Do it, you fuckin' bastard, I swear to God I'll bite your fingers off.”

It didn't sound like he was joking.

And Eugene knew that keep those two in the same house during a whole night would be stupid and dangerous. Sid had nowhere else to go. And he couldn't possibly kick him out. Eugene didn't want to send Merriell away. He wanted to let him comfort his disappointment and to soothe his anger. And yet... “Go to Mamaw's, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but please. Go to Mamaw's. _Please_.” the woman would be able to calm him down. Eugene was willing to take the blame tomorrow morning.

Merriell didn't look happy. Not even remotely pleased, but when he has been able to deny him anything? He caressed Eugene's arms before he stepped aside and gave Sid a look that was a warning. Without bothering himself to wear his shoes, Merriell left the house, just for Eugene. The best the other kid could do was be gone before he come back. Sid only shrugged his shoulders, trying to hide his ears, like a boy that truly pronounced his first curse. There was no thrill, no accomplishment: just regret.

He tried to earn Eugene's favor with a soft and curious: “Who is Mamaw...?”

No. He didn't want to talk to him.

*** * ***

The next morning, Eugene headed downstairs quite early. Sid was already dressed and sitting down on the couch. He was lost in his own thoughts and, unlike the last night, now he did look he understood the weight of his actions and mostly important, the the weight of his words. He stepped out of line. He thought that he had the right and practically the obligation to take Eugene back home. No matter how dirty and how manipulative the tricks he had to use were.

Their friendship was not in a good moment. And perhaps separation would be the only thing to keep it alive, by now. “It's time to go.” Eugene mumbled. He would have wanted this to be a little different. To not feel so caged around his best friend. He would have wanted him to be understanding. Kind. Optimistic. For him to even pat his back and give him advice on how to act around Merriell.

You don't always get what you want.

Sid stood up and grabbed his suitcase. They headed towards the train station in silence.

It was the very first train of the day. It was Sunday, and yet, they didn't seem to take a break or delay the schedule. Eugene was somehow grateful. The sooner Sid left, the sooner he could go back to Merriell and try to solve this and put this situation behind them. He also wanted to go to church. He _needed_ to go church: hear the sermon of the day, pray for guidance and light a candle.

“I'm... _sorry_.” Sid forced the words out of his mouth, not because he didn't feel them but because it was always complicated to accept you are in the wrong. Even more with a friend. “I...” he looked around and shook his head. “It's no excuse, but lately it feels like I can never do things properly. With _anybody_.”

Eugene didn't doubt that. He couldn't understand how it was to go to war. He didn't get to do that, but he liked to think that he was a rather empathetic boy. And that he saw enough veterans for him to have an idea of how it's like. Sid has been scarred too. He _only_ wanted what did him good. No matter how selfish that could be. He had such a terrible time in those forsaken islands that he convinced himself that anything he wanted to have, was _rightfully_ his and that therefore, no one should say anything about it. With objects, that might work just fine. Not with people.

“I know.” Eugene mumbled.

“And when I said that...” that terrible passage. “I didn't mean it. I don't _care_. That's not what bothers me.” It truly wasn't. Perhaps it was quite bizarre to find out that your best friend's desires did not match the majority's. And Sid couldn't say that he has always suspected something because, truly, he did _not_. He simply assumed that it took him more time to find the right girl for him. Just that. But now that he knew that no girl would ever charm him, his blissful dream of having his best friend right by his side was _gone_. Here, in New Orleans, Eugene had a house away from people. He could live with a man if he wanted to, and no one would even notice. In Mobile, everybody was well aware of who his parents were. And they would know. They would _easily_ find out.

That could ruin Eugene's life. Maybe that was a bit too much.

“What bothers you?” the redhead asked, still not looking at him.

“That I lost my best friend.” Sid whispered. “I was desperate to win you back. But I don't... I can't compete with this, can I? With your happiness. I can't compete with _that_.” he kept telling himself. It was not Shelton who _won_. After their argument, Sid decided to actually try to understand what Eugene said right before the other boy got involved in their fight. It was up to him to decide about what he wanted in life. So he had to _accept_ that.

“I'll always be there for you, Sid.” Eugene sighed. “But I need to figure things out, first. I need... I need _this_.” He needed to stay here, be close to the ones he ended up loving so much after these years.

Sid nodded, slowly. He licked his lips and shrugged a little bit. He wanted to ask something and he didn't quite dare. Eugene encouraged him to talk with a question. “It's just... Will you come to my wedding? I would want you to be there.”

He went back to Mobile once during Christmas a couple of years ago, but ever since he met Merriell, the idea of going back there terrified him a little bit. Sid was his best friend and he was asking what was normal of him. He was not even asking him to be his best man, and that was a _relief_. How he could possibly say no?

“I'll be there.” he finally nodded.

Sid smiled, for the very first time in quite some time, tender and hopeful. “Okay.”

“But don't mess this up.” Eugene felt like he had to give him an advice. God knows that Sid was acting like a stupid boy. “She loves you. Don't trick her. She will love you until the very end. As you always loved her. Give Mary what she deserves. You are a good man, Sid. You are not lost.” he was only trying to sabotage the things he had because he didn't feel like he had them _all_. “You are going to get what you always wanted. Allow yourself to enjoy it. And be the man she deserves.”

Sid nodded once again, this time with some more conviction. “I will. Thank you.” he offered his hand. “Until next time, then.”

Perhaps it was in Eugene's forgiving nature to try to forget about the worst. Or maybe it was Sid who always had that impact on him. But Eugene reached out and held him. He rubbed his back and patted it before Sid quickly hugged him back. It was a tight embrace that had so much implied but unsaid: _I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll do better. I'll be better. And you will get to see that_. And also: _I forgive you. But you have to set me free_.

“C'mon, old greaser, you are going to lose your train.” Eugene started to leaned back and squeezed his arm. Sid smiled one last time and nodded.

“Good luck, Eugene.” the blonde said.

“I might need some of it.” Eugene snorted.

*** * ***

He decided that forgiving Sid was the right thing to do because it felt _good._ He understood his flaws and decided that it was only human to make mistakes. Did those words sting any less, then? No. They hurt him. His mother used to do the very same. He absolutely despised it when she used the Bible to convince him that he wasn't doing the right thing. Eugene's faith was tremendously important to him. But his love for Merriell was just as much. He couldn't compare the love he had for the man to the love he had for God. They were different kinds. One was servitude, the other dedication. Was it truly wrong to love with all his heart?

Did the person who received the love twist or infect such pure and gracious feeling?

The sermon of the day was about _obedience_. It did not help much and Eugene found himself disagreeing from time to time.

 _The Lord, your God, commands you this day to follow these decrees and laws; carefully observe them with all your heart and with all your soul_.

Should he follow them blindly? No. He was told to observe with both heart and soul. Should he do something, then, when his heart and his soul told him it was the wrong thing to do? Should he betray himself to become what was expected of him? Was obedience the very best he could offer? And finally, was he willing to put at risk everything he earned after years of an internal fight because Sid quoted something that perhaps, not even he managed to understand?

Were those ancient words far more important than his own wish to pursue happiness?

The mass came to its end and Eugene stayed there. He needed some more time to think. And to _understand_. Today was the day of the Lord, he could as well spend the remaining hours in that small church if he wanted to.

He started to pray.

Merriell, on the other hand, was _desperate_ to see Eugene. Not even Mamaw could calm him down, that night. He was distressed, worried and aching. At some point he even had to sit down and breathe evenly to keep his vision clear. Mamaw kept telling him that Eugene wouldn't leave. That he had nothing to fear. What if that Sid Phillips starts crying and begging? Eugene was a kind boy. He would forgive him right away and try to comfort him. Even feel guilty enough to go back to Mobile.

And Merriell would follow him to the very end of the world. But there was _nothing_ for him in Mobile. Even less in the kind of place where Eugene lived.

He would _lose_ him.

As soon as the Sun raised, Merriell was up. Mamaw barely slept anymore. She was an old woman, and laying and resting made her feel uncomfortable. Her old bones ached in any sort of position, and even more with that humid weather that came with the bayou. She let him hug her and caressed the back of his head, as soft as she had to be when it was necessary.

A couple of hours later, when it was a decent hour of the morning, Merriell said: “I need to go back home.”

“It's Sunday morning. He a _catholic_.” Mamaw snorted, like that was one of Eugene's flaw, that they had to grow used to. “You won't find him home.”

“I need to see him.” he replied, standing up.

“You set a foot on that church and you're gonna start burnin'.”

“Worth takin' the risk.” he kissed her cheek and she patted his back.

She knows _well_ that even unholy love can begin inside of a church.

*** * ***

Merriell did not dip his fingers in holy water and neither he crossed himself. Nor he bowed or kneeled when he saw the wooden statue over the cross in the altar. He only cared about Eugene. Nothing else in this church was divine to him.

He was praying. The kneelers of the pews of this church were long boards made of wood. Merriell could only imagine how tired his knees would feel. Still, the boy did not move. Perhaps he had years of practice. Perhaps he learned to live with a far more disturbing discomfort. Perhaps that was nothing than yet another sacrifice.

To not disturb his prayer, Merriell went around the pew and sat down by his side. Eugene didn't notice him. His forehead was resting against his fingers, that were laced together. His eyes closed and his breathing slow. He admired Eugene's peace. Maybe it was something he achieved after years of faith. Merriell was far too distrusting to believe in anything he couldn't see. Sometimes he didn't even believe in humanity and he was part of it.

He stayed in silence and continued to look at him, focusing his eyes on the nape of Eugene's neck. Then, he turned a little bit and rested his side against the back of the bench, facing him properly. Even if God was in that church, he would keep looking at Eugene. His boy was hope and love in the shape of a man. His flesh and bones were the house of grace.

He couldn't help himself. Merriell reached out and touched him, brushing a couple of red locks behind his ear, far too short to stay there. Eugene opened his eyes, not looking startled or even surprised. He smiled at him. Merriell wanted to smile back at him but couldn't. He was worried. He was _terrified_. And he shouldn't be, should he? Eugene was still there. Right by his side. He placed his hand over his leg and Eugene got off his knees and sat down by his side.

“Didn't wanna interrupt you.” Merriell began.

“It's alright. I've been praying for too long.” Eugene denied, talking with a very quiet voice. They were alone in the church. People leave as soon as the mass is over. They won't offer God more time than strictly necessary.

“Is it worth it?” he couldn't help but ask. “To pray not knowin' if someone is listenin'?”

“ _Blessed are those who believe without seeing_.” That one was one of his mother's favourites. It was like quoting her, not the Bible. “Sometimes it is. Sometimes it's not.” Eugene explained, playing with his thumbs. “Faith is a tricky thing. You can lose it at any moment. Just like it can return to you.” Then he tilted his head to the side and smiled: “You don't believe in _anything_?”

Not in God, that was for sure. Neither he believed in the mystères. Did that make him a non-believer? “I believe in you. And I believe in me.” And perhaps, he believed in the both of them, as well. “And I believe we are in this church for a reason. Because you needed _God_ and because I needed to see _you_.”

Because he was scared. Because Eugene needed _God_ , not _him_. Because he would choose the one above and not the one by his side. Not after what Sid said. Merriell was not sure if he _deserved_ Eugene. But the other boy never asked anything from him. Nor he asked to prove himself. So, if he didn't, should he punish himself for something Eugene was not asking? Should he be so terrified of being _unfitting_?

The redhead squeezed Merriell's hand. He was still unable to smile back at him, but he could brush his thumb over Eugene's fingers.

“I'm sorry about everyt—” he tried, but Merriell denied. He had nothing to _forgive_ him. Eugene nodded and continued: “I want to light a candle. Is that alright? We can go home when I'm done.”

“Sure.” Merriell stood up and Eugene wrapped his arm around him. He was trying to comfort him. Well, Mamaw said he could see his very spirit. For sure he must have noticed he was practically shitting his pants by just thinking that he could have lost him last night.

Merriell barely paid any attention to the statue of the side altar. But he noticed the golden arrows torturing yet another saint. Eugene moved his hand away from Merriell to start with his little ritual. He couldn't look away from him, now. Not when those little flames gave Eugene such a delicate glow over his cheeks. They reminded him to the fireflies of the bayou.

“Why candles?” he couldn't help but ask.

“It was the very first thing God created. Never heard: _And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light?_ ” Eugene's voice was soft. Very calm. He looked so far from conflicted. And Merriell wanted to ask what happened.

Instead, he mumbled: “I guess.”

“Light is supposed to offer you guidance.” Eugene carefully took the slim and long candle to light his before he left it among the others. He crossed himself and Merriell looked down. Did Eugene need guidance? Was he being kind because he wanted to leave? Because this was a goodbye? Maybe Sid Phillips was waiting for him at the train station. He was going crazy. “I found...” Eugene began before he stopped himself and tried once again. “I had a revelation while I was praying.”

Merriell feared the fucking worse. He licked his lips and put his hands on his hips, squeezing his flesh and trying to keep togeher.

“I've been depending on what others said my whole life. What my mother said. What my father said. What Sid said. What the Bible said. I never asked myself anything. Not until I came here.” Eugene sighed. “It takes time for you to see how you tricked yourself into believing it was what you had to do. What _you_ wanted.”

And then he would say that he was being selfish. He would apologize and he would leave. And Merriell would sink.

“I'm going to make things work _my_ way.” he continued. “I'm tired of being scared because I might not be as good as other people want me to be. Or as obedient as God wants me to be. Maybe, in the end, the biggest duty I have is with _myself_. And with my own happiness.” But of course, Eugene noticed that Merriell was awfully quiet, so he bumped his shoulder against his. “What do you think?”

“You are a clever boy, Gene. That must be clever, too.” he sounded like he already lost the battle.

“Come on, Mer, look at me.” Eugene placed his hand over his shoulder once again. He moved a little closer to him and tried to find his eyes. “Look at me. Please?”

Merriell took a deep breath and finally looked up at him. “I am.”

Eugene's touch became delicate and tender. He caressed his shoulder and his skin against the fabric of his shirt made a soft and soothing noise. Merriell sighed and forced himself to keep his eyes open even if he only wanted to close them and embrace Eugene. Let his wamrth and his scent soothe him. Understand he was going nowhere. Eugene's hand moved and rested right under the back of his neck. “Don't stop, then.” he whispered as his forehead touched his.

Merriell felt like he was lacking air once again. He licked his lips and looked around from the corner of his eyes, just to make sure they were still alone.

“No, keep looking at me.” Eugene insisted with that soft voice of his. Merriell really couldn't deny him anything.

Eugene has always been rather impressed by Merriell's eyes. He was a handsome man, there was no way to deny that. He liked his squared jaw and his curly hair. And he liked his sharp ears and his straight nose. He liked the healthy color of his olive skin and he liked the fact that he was shorter than he was. There wasn't a single thing he didn't like about Merriell, but his eyes were big and beautiful, and while sometimes they seemed to be captured in a terrible memory, in other times held so much truth and need in them.

He remembered how Mamaw told him that Merriell pretended to be cocky and confident, and yet he was always terrified of not being _enough_. To Eugene, he was. He was exactly what he wanted and exactly what he needed. And he was not going to risk him for anyone. Not even for God or any higher law.

Eugene was going to make things work his way. He was no longer submitted to faith. His faith was going to be submitted to him. And it existed to bring him comfort whenever he needed it. Help him keep his hope strong. But it was not going to be a doctrine that kept him away from the things he wanted in his life.

Not anymore.

Took him long enough have such logical epiphany.

Merriell gripped Eugene's shirt over his waist. He only used one hand and it looked like he was doing so just for a certainty that he was not going to leave. That he was not going to step back. His fingers pulled gingerly, almost pleading him to stay with him. Eugene smiled, small, and his lips looked pale and a little thinner than usual.

His eyelids flickered when Eugene's nose moved over his, tip against bridge. He was going to kill him. Merriell tilted his head to the side, just barely, and maybe that was what gave Eugene confidence to finally take the final step, not caring about his lack of experience. It was the natural thing to do. It felt natural to kiss Merriell in that moment.

His lips were chapped, as usual, but felt full against his. Eugene closed his eyes and pursed his mouth lightly, in a tender and chaste kiss. He heard Merriell sighing and pulling the fabric of his shirt. So he applied so more pressure against his lips before he tilted his head back. Eugene placed yet another tender kiss, this time against Merriell's upper lip, feeling the curve right under his nose. His heart was hammering against his chest and while he was a little nervous, he was not as scared as he thought he would be.

But Merriell was rigid, visibly holding himself back while clinging onto Eugene's clothes, exhaling each time he was kissed with such care and delicacy. That was _only_ kissing. But to to Merriell it was almost a religious experience. Like he finally understood his connection with the world around him. But, did he really deserve it? What if this ends up hurting Eugene? What if _he_ hurts Eugene? It was very complicated to think while having such sweet lips over his, soothing him. Convincing him that this was _okay_. And that there was _nothing_ to fear.

Eugene stopped for a second and Merriell wanted to ask for more. He pressed his lips into a thin line to keep himself from begging. The redhead took Merriell's hand, the one on his shirt, untangling his fingers from the fabric, and the other that fell by his own side. He made him wrap his arms around his waist while looking at him with curious eyes: _Is this okay? I like it. You belong to me. And I belong to you. There's no need to be scared. I'm not anymore, are you? I'll take care of you._

Merriell swallowed thickly before he nuzzled his nose against Eugene's cheek. He loved him. He loved him so much. Was that enough? _Let it be enough_. The younger man was about to open his lips, to ask if he did anything wrong. If he should stop, but then Merriell decided that _yes_. It was enough. He was enough. And that this was what he wanted. He didn't want to run away from something because he was scared it might finish. It will never even _start_ if he doesn't do something.

He allowed himself to get what he wanted. Merriell captured Eugene's lips in a kiss, that while was tender as the ones Eugene gave him moments again had the experience those lacked. He was a clever boy and quickly tried to mirror Merriell's movements and kissed him back, digging his fingertips against his jaw as Merriell pressed him closer to him, forcing him to take a step forward. His teeth brushed against Eugene's lower lip before he found himself from holding back, wanting to leave him breathless. See this chest vibrating and his cheeks becoming red and bright because the ovewhelming love Merriell was willing to offer. What he had been dreaming about. _Finally_.

They continued to kiss and the church did not collapse on top of them.

Maybe God _truly_ didn't mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCE:
> 
> The quote Sid uses against Eugene is 
> 
> Leviticus 20:13. It sounds pretty bad out of context (but once again, assholes use the Bible out of context to make it say whatever they are trying to prove). I encourage you to read t[his article](https://medium.com/@adamnicholasphillips/the-bible-does-not-condemn-homosexuality-seriously-it-doesn-t-13ae949d6619), it explains it better than I can. 


	18. Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just wanted to his. His, his and then one more time again, his. It had nothing to do with servitude or ownership, but plenty with love and care. He wanted to be Eugene's reason to smile. The one that could make that noisy heart of his speed up. The one that would be there for him when he would be sad, as he was now. He wanted to be his in the most selfless way, but with a small touch of passion: to know he was the one, the only one, that got to kiss him and make him sigh as he was did now, with little air in his lungs and nervous hands that didn't know where to touch.  
> Being unable to leave his desire behind, Merriell graced Eugene's teeth with his tongue, practically pleading for a little more. 
> 
> OR
> 
> They are so in love. And they spend a lot of time on that couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me? ;) 
> 
> I'm back with a new chapter of this terrible story! Heck, I love writing these two being in love. FINALLY. Writing them as a 'couple' is going to be a bit of a challlenge, let's see how it works out!
> 
> (After this chapter, I feel like everybody will scream at Eugene and tell him to let go and have some fun. You are truly not going blind if you touch yourself, boy!)

Eugene sighed with delight as his back ended up resting against the wall. It was cold and it offered a displeasing feeling that bleed under his thin clothes. But there was _nothing_ that Merriell's presence could not balance. His body was warm and very much real. His arms were not too muscular, but strong. Adapted once again to the civilian life and having to work in an overly physical job. And while his body was far from impressive and his shoulders were not too wide, they offered enough space for Eugene to rest his hands there; squeezing and caressing.

God created them both, and since Merriell was older, he was sure that he took his pattern to offer Eugene everything that Merriell lacked and the opposite. What Eugene never had, he found it in Merriell and _craved_ it.

His lips continued to press adoring kisses against his cheeks and jaw. Merriell was still trying to seek comfort in him. His eyes looked like they could speak all by themselves without the need of using words. Eugene moved his hand to the back of his head and caressed his hair. His curls were tangled and he knew him enough by now. He tossed and turned, he didn't get any sleep, and the only thing he got out of that night, was a wild mass of curls. Eugene brushed them, never pulling. Merriell closed his eyes and hid his face on his neck.

To want someone so much, for so long and in so many different ways (first as a punishment, then as a dream, sometimes as a savior and now as a man), and to finally have him was _too much_. Merriell felt overwhelmed. He never got what he wanted. He got small things that allowed him to continue. If they were kids out there eating cakes, as much as he got were the crumbs. Eugene was what his soul ached for since it was put inside of his chest. Or his head. Merriell was not sure where the soul was located.

But he knew he had one and that Eugene made it shine bright. Not pure, but hopeful. And for him, it was enough. He never aimed for perfection. He only wanted to be exactly what Eugene needed. He wanted to make him happy. To not disappoint him. To _love_ him.

He had a chance now.

Fear couldn't control him anymore. He shouldn't allow such thing to happen.

Eugene caressed his back and cupped the back of his neck with his hand. To think about those times when he didn't have him... They were _terrifying_. The despair of knowing that he might have nothing to offer for his boy to want to stay with him. Whatever Eugene saw in him, he had to keep that quality of his alive, so he wouldn't feel disenchanted.

Merriell wanted him to stay by his side until the very end. And because he couldn't imagine his life without Eugene now that he knew him, he breathed against his skin: “Don't leave me.” was that cruel? He wanted to make it sound like it was a _fair deal_. Like he had plenty to offer. Merriell held him tighter and pressed his body closer to his.

Eugene didn't complain, enjoying the fact that in front of him, there was nothing but Merriell. He wanted him _that_ close. He pressed a kiss against the crown of his head and then Merriel decided that he wanted to be sincere. This was the house of God. There was nothing that could become sacrilegious, in here. Nothing that could be _wrong_ , right? He would be stopped and pushed away from Eugene if it was. God would save such virtuous servant from the hands of a filthy sinner.

He wanted to offer and give as much as he had. He already gave him his home and his family. He would even give him his blood and his very last breath if he had to. And _willingly_. Merriell rested his hands on Eugene's hips and leaned his head back, to look at him. By that time, Eugene was trying to let him know that _no_ , he would _never_ leave him.

That sounds just _too good_.

Merriell looked at him with his big eyes, his heart on his throat. He wanted to tell him. To let him know. That he was honest. That he could be good to him. He would try his fucking hardest to be: “ _I love you_.” it didn't feel like he exhaled at all. It felt like his chest was about to explode. “I'll make you happy.” This is a promise. God can be his witness.

And Eugene graced him with one of those beautiful smiles of his: all tenderness and serenity. He took his hands in his. Merriell noticed that they were shaking. Maybe that's why he had been holding Eugene so tightly. To keep his body from showing the weakness he had for the boy. He kissed Merriell's fingers and knuckles with devotion. Like he never carried a weapon to kill men. Like he never held a knife to mutilate corpses. Like he was a creature of grace and kindness. Like he built his happiness with those.

Which, he _did_. In a way, he did. Merriell, always a builder.

“You don't have to promise me anything.” Eugene began. His lower lip brushed over Merriell's skin and he had the need to slip them past his teeth, where his mouth was warm and soft. There wasn't a single thing he wouldn't worship about him. Another kiss. Merriell licked his lips and brushed Eugene's with his left thumb. _Everything_. “You already make me happy.”

“More.” Merriell insisted. This couldn't be all. He couldn't just get something _that_ easily. He turned his palms up so he could cup Eugene's jaw with both of them. “I'll make you as happy as you can be.”

“I am, already. I'm finally living as the person I am with the person I want to be.” he pushed him a little closer by his forearms. The height difference between them was barely a couple of inches, so he didn't have to tilt his chin up to look at his eyes. They were always so understanding. Not judgmental as he always pictured them to be. Merriell looked at him and Eugene didn't look down. He looked back at him. He saw and he _accepted_ him. With his locks over the stone, like a halo, and the dim light of the candles, like an aura, he was the only saint in that church. “I love you too.”

It didn't feel like a big confession. Nor like a burden. Eugene said it because just like the kiss, it felt like it was the natural thing to do. He fell in love with Merriell, as the man that he was. Seeing past the duty of a healer and the pressure of a soulmate. He saw the man, with his flaws, that surely had no matter if he loved him. They would linger. But he embraced them. He loved him just the way he was. And there was nothing more reassuring in this world than knowing that Merriell loved him exactly in the very same way.

Merriell pressed another kiss against Eugene's lips to avoid the tears that wanted to start falling down his cheeks.

*** * ***

Going back home was a little strange.

So much happened in that church and yet, in the streets, it was not _allowed_. Merriell knew better than showing any sort of affection towards another man in public. While Eugene seemed to be everybody's angel (well, first Merriell's, _then_ anyone else), since all those people he helped waved at him or smiled when they saw him; and while Merriell still had a bad reputation for being _the child that came from nowhere_ (there you can see people's true colors, liking just one), any sort of public displayal of affection would get them into big trouble. No matter if Mamaw would threaten to curse them all.

So he looked at Eugene from the corner of his eyes, smiling when he did the same. His fingers ached, longing to hold his hand.

That's why as soon as they arrived, he wrapped his arms around Eugene's waist from behind and made him walk straight towards the couch.

The redhead snorted and had the right amount of time to gasp before he fell right on his stomach over it. Merriell did nothing to help, just laying on top of him and kissing that soft spot right behind his ear.

“Did I make a mistake? Now you are going to act like a child around me?” Eugene teased from his slightly uncomfortable position.

“Yes.” Merriell hummed. “I have you all for myself. Won't share.”

“Worry not, last time I checked, I didn't have that many _suitors_.” Eugene's teeth were small and sharp. Like a little fox's. Beautiful _renard_.

“I bet there are plenty of boys in that college of yours who would surely like to explore a thing or two.” Oh, they would _never_ have the chance.

“I have no interest in becoming anyone's secret.” There was a big difference between the boys in his class and Merriell. And it was that Merriell was honest. Perhaps in a displeasing way, sometimes. But the things he kept in silence were not lies. Just truths that the world was not _yet_ ready to understand. “Not when I have all I want right over my back.” he complained a bit.

“Let's change that.” he gave Eugene enough room to turn over and lay down over his back. Then laid on top of him once again. He grinned when Eugene shook his head, fondly. His fingers ran through his curls. “I want to talk about that, though.” he added after a small silence.

“About what?” Merriell folded his hands over Eugene's chest and rested his chin there.

“ _Secrets_.”

“What secrets?” he frowned. Happiness _truly_ does not last.

“No, no. _I_ don't have any.” Not to him and not anymore, after that. “I just wanted to make sure you didn't want to tell anyone...”

Merriell continued to frown and then sighed. “Look, Eugene. This... There are just things you _can't_ say, sometimes.”

Eugene denied once again. He already knew and understood what Merriell was trying to say. While he could change his mind, he couldn't change everyone else's. And in that situation, he could either feel frustration and resignation. And he knew that the years he had ahead of him, both options would still be there. Some days he would feel one more than the other, swaying from one emotion to another.

 _It is what it is_. Resgination, at this moment.

“Not talking about saying anything in public.” Once again, there's nothing to confess. That's who he was. He didn't have to give explanations to strangers. “But Mamaw. Or Lou.” Merriell's family. And in a way, also _his_.

“Mamaw knows everythin' two minutes before it happens. She probably knows already.” Merriell turned his head and rested his cheek over Eugene's warm body. He could hear his heartbeat. It soothed him. “But you know her by now, don't you? She never says anythin' until you bring it up.” Just like she never told him to let Merriell know that he was in New Orleans during the war. “And Lulu will get as loud as she can be.”

He was not sure if he could deal with Lou's enthusiasm, by now.

“Maybe we should give ourselves some time to enjoy this? As private as it can be?” Eugene offered.

“Allow me in your bedroom and I'll show you _privacy_ , boy.” Merriell grinned.

“Oh, shut up.” he huffed.

*** * ***

The new week began and things were slightly different.

Eugene's life was different. He felt better than ever, understanding that he got what he wanted and that now, he only had to enjoy his life in the way it came to him. Sid would not come back any time soon. And his parents wouldn't simplt visit. But he knew he had to write to them. Call them. He would go to the post office this week. But not today. He was far too eager to see Merriell once again.

This morning, before he left, they kissed and... it was _fascinating_. Casual affection was something he never thought about and it was simply fascinating. A kiss that only had the intention to let the other person know that they were still in love. Of course, it couldn't simply fade over night. Nor so soon. But when Merriell caressed the nape of his neck and kissed his upper lip before he let him go, Eugene smiled. A little insecure but happy. And knowing that he would think about that small kiss during the whole day. Eugene walked with light feet and at some point, he even doubted they touched the ground.

As soon as he arrived home (he managed to not tell Lou anything when she drove him back to the bayou), Eugene felt joy. As usual, Merriell was laying on the grass, shirtless and barefoot. As he always was at this time of the afternoon. The Sun was still high and offering soft warmth. It didn't rain so far, but he had to be careful. Last time, Merriell got quite sick. You couldn't just trust the fourth month of the year. _March winds and April showers bring May flowers_.

After leaving his bag over the grass, Eugene slowly kneeled close to him. “Merriell.” he called his hand, resting a hand over his shoulder. He knew better than startling him, now. One of those big green eyes opened and looked at him. He grinned and Eugene smiled back. After kissing his cheek and Merriell chased his lips, Eugene laid down with him, resting his head over his stomach. Merriell cupped his cheek and caressed it with his thumb.

He _loved_ his life here.

“How was your day?” Merriell asked.

“Slow, but good.” Eugene caressed his forearm, that was resting across his neck, weightless. “Yours?”

“It's getting' better.” he hummed, making fun of that one conversation they once had when Lou and Romie met for the first time at the café.

Eugene pinched him, harmlessly. Merriell returned the gesture by softly pulling his cheek.

“Been thinkin' about somethin', though.”

“What about?”

“You told me if I wanted to tell someone.” Merriell began. “Well. There's someone I'd like to tell. That I am happy. That things are starting to work out for me.” he would not write anything too specific in his letter. You never know where those can end. “Wanna to him. Help me out?”

“Oh?” Eugene turned his head a little bit. He could only see Merriell's chin. “To whom?”

“Burgie.”

Eugene remembered Merriell saying that name. That night when he told him about Ack Ack's death, he also told him about Hillbilly, De L'Eau and Bill Leyden. Among those, there was Burgie. Who, Eugene assumed, was one of the men Merriell trusted the most during the war.

“He was goin' to get married, y'know?” his fingers moved towards Eugene's nose, caressing his profile with a couple of fingers. “He said she wanted a summer wedding.”

“Have you been invited?” Eugene closed his eyes.

“I don't think so.”

“Did you go to the post office and check?”

“...Well. _No_.”

Eugene couldn't possibly scold him. It's been a while since he bothered himself to stop by. “Maybe we can go tomorrow. I need to call my parents. And see if Eddie wrote back.” which, he doubted.

“Any reason why your brother won't talk to you?”

“If there's one, I am unaware of.” he didn't think he did anything to Eddie. It was just pressure. The need to be better than the older brother. Perhaps a competition in his own mind. He would find his own path and forget about that silly idea.

“Right.” Merriell didn't push it. “I still want you to help me.”

“You can write just fine, Merriell.”

“I want it to sound real classy. Just like you, cher.” he patted his chest and Eugene understood the command. He sat up and looked at him. Merriell was now bearing his weight over his forearms.

Eugene bit his lower lip while he smiled: “ _Cher_?”

There was love in Merriell's eyes, and Eugene couldn't think of a more beautiful sight. “ _Cher_.” he moved one of his hands forward and pinched his nose with his fingers, affectionately. “You got a big nose there, boy.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling, and slapping his hand away from his face.

They made it back inside of the house and Eugene gave him paper and a pen. Merriell began to write as Eugene sat down by his side, going through the notes he took that day and waiting until he would give him the letter so he could _correct_ it. That was Merriell's friend, surely he liked him just the way he was. And to read someone that straightforward must be refreshing. Merriell called it classy, Eugene could describe it as _pompous_.

When he came back from the kitchen after briefly leaving for a cup of tea, he found Merriell reading his notebook. And in any other situation, during any other day, Eugene would have let him. But today had been the very first official day he had been away from Merriell after kissing him. Of course he wrote about him during class!

“Hey, don't do that!” Eugene quickly rushed towards him, leaving the mug aside. When he tried to take the notebook away from Merriell, the older boy grinned, and placed a hand on Eugene's chest, to keep him from spoiling his fun.

“What are these? _M_ s? You wrote a bunch of _M_ s all over your notebook, Sledgehammer?” his voice had a vivid color; he was amused as he could be.

“Cut it out!” Eugene huffed as the tip of his ears were going red. At that point he was trying to snatch the evidence of his crime from Merriell's hand.

The veteran finally stood up, keeping Eugene away from getting want he wanted to hide. “C'mon, share a little, huh? Let me read!” he grinned as the other became more effusive in his quest. “ _But the seed on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop_. Luke, 8:15.” he read out loud and needed a couple of seconds to understand. Then he smiled even wider and turned to look at Eugene, who finally got his notebook, grumbling and looking both displeased and ashamed. “Did you write a passage of the Bible while thinking about me? _Seriously_ , now?”

Oh, his _devoted_ boy, he couldn't switch it off, could he?

“What's wrong with you.” Eugene huffed, refusing the acknowledge the fact that at that point, his cheeks matched the color of his hair.

“Tell me I'm dreamin'!”

“You were prying! It's none of your business, Merriell.”

Merriell held Eugene's hips and pushed him a little closer to him. “Don't be mad.” he tried to find his eyes. Eugene's pride told him to not look back at him. “It was a beatiful one, huh? A little reward for constancy, maybe?”

“Patience and perseverance as the only way to grow something that is both noble and beautiful.” Eugene couldn't help but correct him. “Something you don't appreciate it, I see.”

“I can show you how much I appreciate _you_.” he couldn't help himself.

Ever since this started, since that very first kiss Eugene gave him less than twenty-four hours ago, Merriell forced himself to make a vow. To never push him. He didn't need to look at Eugene twice to know that the boy had no experience in romance and even less beyond that. It was pretty damn clear when he kissed him in such a chaste and innocent way.

Merriell was _ravenous_. But he could wait some more. Until he would be ready. Until Eugene would be the one to ask him for it. He waited four years. He waited his whole life. But... It was easier to say that than _doing_ it. It has barely been a day and he couldn't pretend that last night he did not fantasize about Eugene slipping under the blankets, probably to rest his head on his shoulder, doubtful but brave enough to take the first step. He would probably kiss him with little skill and then would ask him to _touch him_.

And Merriell _would_.

Sadly, none of that happened. But there was still a glimpse of hope in the back of his mind that kept that flame burning. It's too soon for that to happen.

“Appreciate my privacy, then!” Eugene sounded like a grumpy child.

Absolutely out of the matter at the moment.

*** * ***

“Yes, he spent the weekend with me.” Eugene said, with his eyes on Merriell as spoke with his mother through the phone. “Why, did he say anything?” he forced himself to pretend. After how sorry Sid seemed to be when he left, he doubted he would have betrayed him right away. But he was also a _snitch_ , so...

“That you were doing fine. Even if Merriell was a complicated boy.” Mary Frank replied.

“Of course he is complicated. I was supposed to come here to save his soul, don't you remember?” come on, she takes him to the train and now she worries that her son might be in a bad company?

“I guess you are right. Is he doing any better?”

“Sure is.” he didn't like talking about Merriell like he was a patient. But with his mother, there was no other option.

“Sid will get married soon.” and it was a miracle that his mother was not casually adding the fact that Eugene was still _single_. She didn't know and he was not saying anything. Not that none of them specified what that confession and kiss truly implied. Did that give them a proper title? “He could come with you. I'd like to meet him. See the man he became.”

His heart stopped for a second just to think about his mother and Merriell in the same room. Those who met before he was even born. Couldn't be compared to the situation they would face considering that Merriell was only two years old and that he was not... They weren't... whatever this was. Eugene felt like his mother would know. She would be able to see and tell right away. And maybe she would forbid him to go back to New Orleans and force Merriell to leave Mobile.

Why did he always think about the worst possibility?

He should be positive. And happy. He just began this new life. He shouldn't let anything or anyone ruin it. And Sid wouldn't be getting married right away. He had a few months to either ignore the issue or try to wrap his mind around it. When Merriell turned and showed him an envelope to let him know that he got a letter from Burgie, probably the invitation to his wedding, Eugene smiled a little bit. That pulled him out of his awfully pessimistic mind.

“We'll see.” he cleared his throat. “I'll tell him about it.”

Merriell approached him and asked: “Ask who and what?”

“I have to leave.” Eugene quickly rushed to say. “Okay? I'll call next week.”

“Promise me, Eugene!”

“I promise!” Eugene huffed, not enjoying Merriell's grin. He was constantly mocking him.

“ _Children, be obedient to your parents in all things, for this is well-pleasing to the Lord._ ” Mary Frank preached and Eugene winced. He absolutely hated it when she did that.

“Yes, yes! Goodbye!” he ended the call before his mother could say anything else. “Jesus Christ.” he huffed a little bit and leaned against the wall.

“The phone ain't got no eyes, Gene. No need to worry your Mama might see me.” he hummed and poked his side with a finger.

Eugene squirmed and pushed him a little bit: “Hush, now. It has ears and your mouth has nothing my mother would be able to hear without _blushing_.”

Merriell looked around for a second and took a step forward. He lowered his voice and it sounded sinful: “And you don't even know the _half_ of it.” And then, just like that, he took a step back and continued to smirk in that lazy and confident way he had to smile.

Like that didn't do _things_ to Eugene.

He parted his lips, to say something, but he couldn't. He was not used to these kind of situations. What should he say? Eugene ended up licking his lips and looking away, feeling his heart right on this throat. Right. This... _Whatever_ this was. It would... It would have to eventually... And he wanted to! He... liked the idea of being close to Merriell. And he truly enjoyed it very much when they kissed. Maybe they should do that more often. As soon as they arrive home.

It was just... a little scary. And he was clueless as he could be.

God help him, he will make a fool out of himself if that ever happens.

“Got my invitation.” Merriell decided to be merciful (and _careful_ , they were in public), opening the envelope.

“When and where?” Eugene raised his eyebrows.

“Uh... Marquez, Leon.”

“That is...?”

“ _Texas_.”

“Mhm. When?” he insisted once again.

“Mid June. The 15th.”

“You'll go, right?” Eugene walked back to the counter, wanting to make sure no one wrote to him. He gave his name to the man working there and waited.

“I guess.” Merriell recalled telling him to invite him right before Burgie got off the train. “I'll have to work extra hours.” he sighed. “What do people even want for their wedding?” he tilted his head.

Eugene focused his eyes on one rebellious curl that was sticking out. He wanted to brush it and ran his fingers through his hair as he would have done back home. Merriell noticed that he was looking at his hair and he patted it, fixing it almost on accident.

“Things for their house?” Eugene finally answered with another question.

“I ain't got no time to be tryin' to find what they need.”

“You just don't _want_ to.”

“No way in Hell.”

Eugene shook his head. He was _incorrigible_. Merriell would have reached out for him. Wrapped his arms around him and pressed kisses against his shoulder. He spent so many years craving affection that now it felt like he would _never_ have enough. Eugene will have to learn how to live with an awfully clingy Merriell. _Too bad_.

When the man came back with Eugene's mail, his smile faded away. He saw all the letters Sid sent during those months, ever since Merriell came back. _Quite a few_. He felt like they _both_ needed to do better. He should have checked before. Write back to him in time to make sure he wouldn't reach certain limits. He was a complete idiot, of course he still needed Eugene's guidance.

But that had a solution. While Sid left after saying something very cruel to Eugene, he decided that he deserved forgiveness. And distance would allow them to overlook that mistake. It would be okay.

What made him sadder was the fact that Eddie send him back his own letters. As a way to let him know that _nothing_ he could say interested him in the slightest. Maybe he truly did something and he never noticed? Maybe he felt abandoned? Maybe... Maybe it was not _only_ sibling rivarly.

Eugene blinked and looked at Merriell when he patted his back. He denied, firmly and said: “ _His_ loss.”

He truly doesn't know what happened.

*** * ***

They had dinner with Mamaw, as always. Eugene was quiet and Merriell was constantly trying to find his eyes, to smile at him and hopefully manage to comfort him with that. But he knew Eugene, by now. The boy liked to overthink. And not just a little bit. Eugene looked like the kind that could torment himself with his own mind to the point he would even end up getting sick. And while Merriell didn't know much about Eugene's younger brother, he couldn't help but think that the kid was a bit of an asshole to simply cut him out of his life.

Not wanting Eugene's care and attention? He could _never_ relate to that.

It wasn't working. The redhead played with his food and shrugged when he was asked questions. Merriell looked at Mamaw for some help, but the woman, wise and old as she was, denied: _Give him his time_.

Right before they left, Mamaw stopped Merriell by holding his arm and said _nothing_. She looked at him and cupped his chin. He knew what she was doing. She was looking at his very soul and she could see the love he had for Eugene. Merriell didn't try to look away. He was happy and proud of that feeling. And that for some reason Eugene was foolish enough to like him back. He smirked and Mamaw patted his cheek. “ _Chanceux, va!_ ”

Lucky? Oh, no. No, he didn't feel like this was luck. Destiny, right? A destiny that would have not happened if they hadn't worked on their issues. As he saw Eugene waiting for him, he kissed Mamaw and left with him.

“C'mon, Gene. Don't do that.” Merriell said, softly, after they arrived home. He barely said a word since they came back from the post office.

“I don't understand...” Eugene sighed.

“How old is your brother?” Merriell sat down with him on the couch, with one arm around his shoulders.

“Nineteen.”

“Pfff! At that age _anything_ can get you mad.”

“The thing is he's been for a while and I don't really... know why...” last time he visited during Christmas, Eddie was already displeasing and quiet around Eugene.

“As I said, his loss. He will write back to you, eventually. And you'll have to ask him for an apology.” he squeezed Eugene's arm.

“Don't need one.”

Maybe he should start asking more from others. Unconditional love could turn into one manipulative game. Merriell made sure to remember that sometimes Eugene was willing to swallow his pride to avoid an argument. He hoped they would never have one, but that was simply impossible. They will argue and he will run his mouth. Maybe Eugene will refuse to talk to him. Maybe it would happen in the opposite way. No matter what, he would do his best to keep Eugene happy.

And that's why he kissed his cheek, wanting to cheer him up. “What can I do to help you?”

Eugene smiled and turned his head to look at Merriell. “You, being here, is enough.” he folded the collar of Merriell's shirt. He entertained himself while doing that, keeping his eyes on the fabric for a little while before he added, trying to sound as casual as possible: “I surely wouldn't mind if we kissed a little bit, though...”

Wasn't that _lovely_?

Merriell obeyed happily and kissed him. He let Eugene have his time to warm up. His lips were doubtful, at first. Like he needed a reminder of how to do it. Like he needed to go back to the church and copy all the things he learned from Merriell that morning. And when his smooth lips began to move with his, Merriell's fingers curled around the suspenders over his chest and pulled. The younger man shifted closer, caressing Merriell's shoulders. It was still _strange_. To let go so easily, knowing that there was no fatal consequence. Not in here and not anymore when faith only offered and didn't take anything away from him.

He just wanted to his. His, his and then one more time again, _his_. It had nothing to do with servitude or ownership, but plenty with love and care. He wanted to be Eugene's reason to smile. The one that could make that noisy heart of his speed up. The one that would be there for him when he would be sad, as he was now. He wanted to be his in the most selfless way, but with a small touch of passion: to know he was the one, the _only_ one, that got to kiss him and make him sigh as he was did now, with little air in his lungs and nervous hands that didn't know where to touch.

Being unable to leave his desire behind, Merriell graced Eugene's teeth with his tongue, practically pleading for a little more. Whatever he would give, he would _cherish_. Maybe it was in Eugene's merciful soul to be generous because he parted his lips. Merriell didn't waste his chance and while the kiss was not aggressive, it was sure intense, as he licked the inside of his mouth with soft devotion.

And Eugene would have given him more if it was for the fact that he didn't know what to do and that he was _breathless_. So he dug his smooth nails over Merriell's shoulders and broke the kiss by tilting his head back, needing some air in his lungs. As Eugene breathed heavier than usual, Merriell chased his lips but when he saw he needed them to calm down his heart, he tended his neck with delicate kisses and little bites.

Merriell focused on Eugene's pointy chin and grinned against his flesh, dragging his teeth over it. He was absolutely adorable. Youthful and pure. Merriell saw in Eugene everything he lost before and during the war. Maybe some of that would manage to clean his soul. He pressed a kiss against it and nuzzled his nose against his neck.

“I love you.” Eugene breathed, wrapping arms around him. And the way he had to hold Merriell was _protective_. Like he was willing to keep anything cruel and ugly from this world to get to him. Even if he knew that Merriell saw everything that was vicious and despicable before he got to be around Eugene in the very same room.

The effort, alone, made Merriell want to keep him forever. “Terrible mistake.” he joked. But did he really? Maybe Mamaw put a little curse on him when he was still in his mother's womb. Maybe this love would be the end of that beautiful creature.

But then Eugene frowned a little bit and focused his eyes on Merriell. He looked like he was about to scold him. “Hush, you. Not a mistake.” Merriell smiled sheepishly before he hid his face on Eugene's neck. He loved him, as well. Even when he acted like some strict teacher.

Merriell pushed a little forward and Eugene laid on his back, making sure he would stay on top of him. The tip of Eugene's nose brushed against his temple. His fingers over his jaw and slowly moving towards his lips. Merriell's lips were beautiful and full. A little unwise for him to put his fingers close to his mouth. Eugene gasped a little startled when Merriell's teeth captured two of his fingers. “Hey, you!” he huffed a little bit, pulling them out quickly.

He was kissing Eugene once again, this time starting deep and using his whole body, pressing it against his. After shifting a little bit, he laid between Eugene's legs and held him there, with his hands on his sides. The other tried to do his best while laying there, hoping to catch up with the kiss and not choke with the mess of tongues, lips and teeth that were mingling inside of his mouth.

 _Slow down, don't scare him off_ , said the most rational part of his brain. _Let him stop you, he knows his limits_ , said the passionate side. Jesus fucking Christ, _four_ years and now he was _his_. It was only that easy to keep his mind cold. Or his body. His body that reacted so quickly, now. And to think that there was a time it wasn't even his? A Marine is not any more indepedent than a little girl's doll.

And while Eugene was enjoying it (he yet had to find something that felt better than Merriell's lips) he was still insecure. And _scared_. This was something that could lead towards... _more_. That more he knew so little about. In his house, sex was not even a _thing_. It was not spoken about. Nor it was in church. Or school. The only one that used to talk about it was Sid, who gave him the very basics of how sex was supposed to be like (and most importantly, what felt _good_ ) between a man and a woman. That was somehow helpful, but not enlightening at all. Eugene was terrified of his own ignorance and he was also scared of Merriell's reaction. What if he laughs? What if he decides that he needs to be able to satisfy him to be his... _whatever_ he was?

It was not that he didn't like him. He liked him a lot. But Eugene has been deying his own sexual desire for far too long. It would be impossible for him to just open that door. At least, it was, _right now._ So when he felt his body start to react to Merriell's lips and hands, he turned his head and broke the kiss, abruptly: “Oh, God, okay!” he gasped, placing a hand on his own stomach and pressing. _Don't you dare_. “Wow. Uh.” _Too late_. He quickly moved back, releasing his legs from under Merriell's body and pressed his knees against his chest, like he was trying to hide, and most importantly, keeping Merriell to see what truly happened.

He already _knew_.

By the way he grinned and licked his lips, he totally knew.

Eugene covered his face with his hands and brushed his hair back. Yeah, does it get more embarrassing than this? His whole body felt tight, some parts of it harder than others, obviously. The discomfort between his legs made his core burn.

Merriell patted his knee and hummed: “I'll let you enjoy some time alone.”

Eugene ran upstars in that very moment, but did not use that time to let his body find release or toy with himself just for the sake of feeling some pleasure. He took a cold shower, risking getting sick, and then forced himself to sleep with his hands above the blankets.

 _Old habits die hard_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION:  
> Renard: Fox.  
> Chanceux, va!: Lucky you!


	19. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don't move now...” his voice was low, like he was very focused on what he was doing. Like he could do anything else other than sit there and treasure every single touch. The sharp edge of the straight razor dragged over his skin, carefully, as Eugene tried to make a decent and even neckline. For sure that was easier to do on someone else. Merriell breathed heavily when Eugene rubbed his fingers against the skin, like that could keep it from getting irritated.   
> Merriell only cleared his throat and tried to open his eyes when he felt Eugene's leg bumping against his knee. The boy was now standing in front of him, slipping his slim body in the narrow space between him and the sink.
> 
> OR
> 
> Merriell gets a "haircut".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad English as usual but now we also add "cringey lemon/smut/whatever it's called nowadays". So... Not a very good chapter but necessary because our boy Eugene is finally allowing himself to get a little naughty and I think we can all be proud of that.
> 
> Remember when I said I wouldn't write this kind of scenes?  
> Well. There was a reason. Those two or three pages took me THREE days to write. Terrible. Not enjoyable. Please, be nice to me. I'm just a poor fucking idiot who CAN'T write.

“Do I look any different?” Lou asked that Saturday morning. She was still looking at her own reflection over the small mirror they kept close to the door. Eugene didn't get to see her yet, being a little busy in the kitchen, getting some coffee and tea for Merriell and their guest.

They've been _avoiding_ her a little bit. Eugene hated lying and he could only assume that Merriell didn't want to do it, either. Not to someone who was like his family. Either way, the girl gave them almost a whole week before she showed up. She missed them. And by the way she acted, a little cryptic and oozing happiness, she surely had something to tell them, too.

“No, did you lose more fingers?” Merriell joked, wrapping his arm around her, guiding her inside of the kitchen. Eugene snorted and bit his lower lip, trying to not make fun of the girl.

“Yeah, always an _asshole_ , Merry.” Lou huffed as she sat down. She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows with some hope. “Eugene?”

Eugene turned a little bit, looking at her over his shoulder. Merriell stood by his side, taking a couple of mugs for him and bringing them to the table. Lou smiled and smoothed her lilac blouse over her chest. She looked the same as usual. Good. _Familiar_. So he decided to take a wild guess: “Wearing lipstick?”

She slumped in her chair, clearly disappointed yet once again: “I've been wearing lipstick for a couple of years. Thank you for noticing _now_.”

“Yeah, but it's a _new_ one.”

“No, it's _not_.” she shook her head. “C'mon. Don't you think I look more... _mature_ , now? More... Like a _woman_?” she raised her eyebrows once again, nodding a little bit, like those small hints could give away what the Hell happened to her.

Eugene left the teapot aside and joined them at the table, with his own coffee on his right hand. “... New clothes?”

“Jesus Christ, Eugene. _No_.”

Then he denied, defeated. He couldn't think about any other thing.

Lou looked at Merriell to try once again with him. And he was _not_ pleased.

“Are you serious? If it is what I think it is... Are you fuckin' serious, Lulu?” he began to stir his coffee while frowning.

“What? What is it?” Eugene quickly asked. “You got sick or something?” that couldn't make her look any older or more like a woman. Whatever that even _means_.

“She got _fucked_ , Eugene.” Merriell grumbled and Lou smiled even wider.

“Damn right!” it looked like it was a _big_ achievement. Like it was something that _finally_ happened. Not too late or too soon. The perfect moment. And like it was something normal. Nothing to hide or be embarrassed about.

And while Eugene admired that lack of remorse or shame, he was still unable to discuss such topics so lightly. “You must be joking!” he gasped. “And you are telling us just like that?!” that was, oh, so scandalous, for sure!

“What's the deal? It's just sex?” Lou didn't understand why those two had to overreact. Boys could be awfully dramatic, sometimes.

“You are just a girl!” Merriell scolded her.

“Not before marriage!” Eugene added.

_Wait. What?_

Merriell frowned and quickly looked at him. That shouldn't surprise him much. Eugene was a catholic. One with strong convictions and even a stronger faith. It was not so strange for him to want to respect the vow of celibacy until marriage. But the thing was they _couldn't_ get married. No matter what. Does that mean they will never... be intimate? Because Merriell could wait. As much as he had to. But... He could use a little something here and there.

“You'd never...?” Merriell asked, carefully.

Eugene parted his lips and looked back at him. He cleared his throat and sat up straight, looking back at Lou. “We are discussing _something_ here, Mer.”

“I had sex, it's not like I killed someone.” Lou insisted, not seeing why it was such a problem. She loved the man, and he loved her. They were both adults who wanted to do it. Where's the issue? “Wait a minute.” she squinted, seeing that interaction between the two of them. “Wait, wait, _wait_ a minute.” she repeated, leaning forward. “You two are now...?” she lowered her voice even if there was no one could that hear them.

Eugene made sure to hide his face behind his mug by talking a long sip, not caring he might be burning his tongue. Merriell shrugged a little bit and began to pull his earlobe, looking away, regretting ever opening his mouth.

“Oh, my _God_.” she whispered, biting her lower lip. Lou needed a couple of seconds before she began to smile more and more each time. Eugene almost expected her to be unbearably loud. But she didn't... screech or anything. And he was _thankful_ for that. “Since when?! Please, tell me not that long ago! I deserved to know!”

“Jesus fuckin' Christ, Lulu. Last Sunday, alright? Don't make a big deal out of this.” Merriell was as ashamed as Eugene was, simply in a different way.

“Oh, it _is_ a big deal! I was inolved in all this, either you like it or not!” she had to babysit Eugene during the whole war and gently nudge them together. She liked to think this was _also_ her victory. It made sense. It _had_ to be like that. And now it was. “Oh, I could _cry_.”

“Stop being _weird_.”

“Merry, I am _emotional_.” she was now making fun of them. She was allowed to, after being used as the messenger _even_ when they were both in the very same room.

Merriell tried to pinch her arm but she moved away from him, chuckling.

Eugene, who still had a death wish, even up practically pleading: “I thought I would never say this, but can we _please_ go back to you having sex with Robert, please?”

“First of all, only _I_ can call him Robert. _My_ Robert. So watch it.” she corrected him right away. “And second... I guess. But I want you to tell me the details. _Eventually_. I'm your family.”

“You are _not_.” he didn't mean it. And Lou know, he was still a little cranky about this whole thing and his big, _big_ mouth.

“I'll tell Mamaw.” she huffed.

Merriell saw that Eugene was putting a cigarette between his lips, so he stole it. Just like that. Eugene pushed him away a little bit, deciding to simply take another and avoid yet another confrontation. After the first puff of smoke, Merriell asked: “Are you goin' to be pregnant now or what?”

She was truly not that lost, she knew what to do and what _not_ to do. Lou rolled her eyes: “Of course not, I am not an idiot. And my mother would _kill_ me.”

“She already hates you anyway.”

Before Merriell left to war, he said something similar but about Mamaw. The difference here was that her mother probably disliked her quite a lot. “Hey, thanks. _Fuck you_.”

“Shhh.” Eugene hushed them both. He always tried to keep Lou from cursing, for some reason. It's what he did with his brother back in Mobile. “Her mother doesn't hate her, Merriell. Don't say that.”

“She kinda does.” Lou couldn't help but interrupt him. “And she also dislikes Robert. _A lot_.”

“Why?” Eugene asked as he shared the ashtray with Merriell.

“Because he makes me happy?” she snorted with some bitterness that lingered on her voice. The situation was getting worse and worse. She didn't want to be around her mother anymore. “And because he is a _latino_.” Lou added with even more distaste.

“That's some bullshit.” Merriell snorted. “That's so fuckin' rich, comin' from your Maman, you know? So fuckin' rich. Jesus fuckin' Christ, the Hell is wrong with her?”

She was just as angry about it if not _more_. But she only shrugged, trying to keep her head cold. “I know, I know...” she sighed and sipped her tea. “I already told her, y'know? That I wanna marry him. She says that she won't let me.” and then, only the memory of that conversation made her feel frustrated. “Like she can keep me from gettin' married! She keeps sayin' he's _lazy_. That he doesn't work because he doesn't want to! My Robert is a good man. Willing to work and do anythin'. He goes out every day, first hour in the morning, to find a job. Ain't that easy, y'know? He has to learn everythin' brand new!” she huffed. “But she says that I have to marry _well_. The fuck she thinks I am? We are no rich family. I ain't some _debutante_.”

Eugene saw her licking her lips and perhaps regretting saying all that. He placed his hand over hers and said: “We can help. If your mother gets really stubborn, we can talk to her. Don't you think, Merriell?”

“What there's to discuss with that kind of people? They don't have any reason for sayin' that shit and they say it, anyway.”

“Surely we can do _something_.” he insisted a little bit.

“Don't bother, Eugene. I appreciate it. I'll find a way. As soon as we get the money, we'll get married. I know. I'll ask him _myself_ if I have to.” she surely wouldn't mind.

“If it's money what you need...”

“No.” she stopped him right away. “I appreciate it, Eugene.” she even squeezed his fingers, tenderly. “But no. Thank you.” then she began to play a little with her cup. She looked at Merriell from the corner of her eyes a couple of times, not daring to start speaking. Something unusual in her.

The man rested his arm over the back of Eugene's chair and said: “Spit it out, Lulu.”

“It's not...”

“ _C'mon_.” he urged her.

“Well. It's just that something happened. After...” she shrugged one shoulder. “We were sleepin', right? And...” she brushed her hair behind her ear. “And he... he woke up. _Suddenly_. And he started to ask me where was the baby.” she whispered.

“Fuckin' Hell.” Merriell stood up and put the cigarette back on his mouth. Like some smoke could make that terrible memory fade away.

Lou parted her lips, about to apologize. He made a move so she would continue even if he was not looking at her. Eugene, who had a hand over Merriell's waist squeezing reassuringly, nodded so she would keep talking.

“That... That he could hear him cry. That the baby was cryin' and that he had to help the mother. And I... I got a little bit scared. It was like he couldn't see me. And when he did, he started to cry. But... a lot. Like a little kid and... I didn't know what to do. So I held him. And he started to apologize. And it made me very sad.” she whispered. Eugene felt a great amount of compassion when he saw her teary eyes.

“Yeah. So?” Merriell replied, tightly. It was not lack of care for the girl. It was being prisoner of an experience he couldn't forget.

“So...” she brushed her cheek with her fingers before she could even think about crying, herself. “I just wanted to know if it was _normal_.”

“It is. In fact. If wanna marry the man, you better get ready for the nightmares.”

Lou nodded. “I only need to know what to do. To calm him down.”

“Ask Eugene. He's the one with the wonderful hands.” Merriell quickly said. “I'll be outside.” he pointed behind him and walked out of the kitchen.

Lou didn't dare to say anything else and sighed.

“Don't worry about it.” Eugene held her hand once again. “Sometimes giving them some space is what works best.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn't want to bring it up, because I knew he would feel... conflicted about it.” she smiled a little bit at him. “Anyway... There's something I have always wanted to ask you and I guess now it's the best time to do so.”

“Go ahead.”

“How does sex works for two men? I _really_ can't figure it out.”

“ _Louise_.” he scolded her right away.

He literally had no idea, so far.

*** * ***

When Lou left, it was after she kissed Merriell's cheek and he held her. She apologized and he shook his head. He loved her and he _knew_ her. While she could be quite stubborn and a little bit annoying, she had no malice. It was only natural to want to ask if that reaction was something normal or if she should encourage him to seek help (other than Eugene who could only soothe but not cure).

Eugene stood in the doorway, with his hands in his pockets. Merriell waved a little bit as Lou started to row away from their house. He sighed and threw the cigarette he smoke to the very filter into the water and turned, heading back inside.

“Better?” Eugene asked as soon as Merriell's arm brushed his.

“Perfect.” he replied, still looking ahead him but stopping to feel Eugene's warmth against him.

He closed the door and Merriell continued to stand there. He caressed his arm, softly, and kept his eyes on him.

The older man licked his lips and looked back at him: “You cut your own hair?”

“Huh?” he raised his eyebrows, not expecting that question. “Yes. Yes, why?” he finally answered.

“Could you help me trim mine?” he touched his hair. “Last time I got a hair cut was before I took the train back home.”

“I could try. Your hair is very different from mine.” Eugene replied, brushing his dark curls.

“I trust you.” even if he made a mess, Merriell could always fix with some pomade. The only thing he wanted, right now, was Eugene's fingers on his scalp, hoping to soothe his wicked mind. But he didn't know how to ask in any other way.

And he also needed to cut his hair.

So that was a good solution for both problem.

Eugene followed him upstairs and took the comb (obviously he bought a new one ever since he arrived there), the scissors and straight razor and waited for Merriell to get his hair wet. It would be impossible to tame otherwise. Once Merriell sat down on the stool in front of the sink. He put a towel over his shoulders so, if they got lucky, they wouldn't have to sweep the floor once they were done.

“Don't go all too crazy, huh? Just a little, cher.” he moved his arms back to be able to caress Eugene's legs from his position. He grinned and began to brush his hair, doing his best to not pull his hair too much. It was always tangled.

“Do you ever bother yourself to brush your hair?”

“ _No_.”

“It shows.”

“Just cut whatever you can't brush and that's it.”

“ _Savage_.”

“You have no idea.” he hummed as he tried to pull the fabric of his trousers, so he would also touch his calves. It was like trying to stand while having little spiders tickling his skin. Eugene squirmed and pushed him a little bit.

“Stay still.” he scolded him while smiling.

Merriell did a very big effort to just _be good_. He brought his hands back to his lap, playing with his thumbs and closing his eyes as he heard the clicking sound of the scissors cutting his hair. As Eugene imagined once, Merriell's hair was coarse and unruly. He checked that morning after Mardi Gras. Now he could touch it, feel it, smell it, and he only felt happiness. He had nothing to cry about.

“About what happened earlier...” Merriell began.

“Yes?”

“You really think it's _bad_ to have sex before marriage?”

Surely Eugene expected him to talk about Romie's nightmare better than his foolish remark about premarital sex. Maybe it was better like that. Or not. It was hard to decide.

“Well...” Eugene cleared his throat. “I... That's what I was _taught_.” But also, he was taught that love could _only_ happen between a man and a woman. Look at him now. “It was just impressive, don't you think? I met her when she was... how old? Fourteen? Fifteen? Now she does _that_ and wants to get married.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I've been around since she was born.” Merriell sighed. What bothered him the most was not _only_ that sense of protection she had towards Louise. When he left her, as Eugene said, she was only a girl. Now she was a woman. Those five years truly made the difference and it was only normal that she wanted to start a family. But... How come she got lucky with Romie before he did with Eugene? Not fair! She didn't know a single thing about seduction and Merriell, while being practically an expert, was still waiting.

And he didn't mind.

But she _won_ and he was a sore loser.

“We are all growing, I guess.” Eugene stepped to the side and was overly careful to not cut Merriell's ear as he fixed his sideburn. The metallic feeling of the scissors was not displeasing. Not while Eugene's careful and warm skin took care of him, caressing the side of his ear with his finger and his thumb, almost pinching the sharpest part of the helix. Merriell's ears were pointy. He was convinced it was yet another way to reveal a tricky nature.

Merriell hummed and kept his eyes closed. Relaxing. _Soothing_. Exactly what he wanted and needed.

The hair landed over the towel, but also over Eugene's hand. And his hair was so thick that made his skin itch. Especially when it ended up trapped between his ring and his finger. Eugene stopped for a second and decided to take it off. “Take this for me, would you?”

Merriell only raised one of his hands and Eugene left it over the palm. He opened his eyes briefly to check what it was. He brushed his thumb over the gold and decided that the best way to take care of it and not accidentally drop it over the sink was to wear it. Eugene smiled as he saw that and blew around Merriell's ear to get rid of the hair over there.

He exhaled heavily, feeling a shiver going down his spine. It was a nice feeling: the comb dragging over his scalp, his moist fingers holding the curls and then the scissors trimming those locks. Eugene moved towards the other ear and when he felt his digits once again over his ear, he couldn't help but lean against his touch.

“Stay still, Mer.” he repeated.

And he had to obey, even if all he wanted right now was to rub his forehead against Eugene's stomach and whisper: _love me, love me, love me_. He would never get enough of that sweet affection, would he? He was doomed.

“ _Mhmm_.” he heard himself answer a couple of minutes late, when Eugene's brought his mouth close to his ear and blew again. It was not displeasing as it could be in any other situation. It gave him goosebumps to picture those lips so close to him.

And they _kissed_ already.

He even saw Eugene getting an _erection_ from kissing. No matter if the boy wanted to hide it as much as possible.

This was not enough to get him aroused. It wouldn't be if he had been any other person. Merriell forced himself to not think about it and continued to play with Eugene's ring.

His fingertips over his temples encouraged to keep his head still. It felt so heavy. Like he was repenting. After licking his lips, he did his best to make his neck bear the weight of his skull and keep himself steady and there. He felt drunk with Eugene's presence, already. The younger man fixed the top of his head, to make the hairstyle even and then his fingers were over the back of his neck, making him return to his posture of penance, bowing his head forward.

“Don't move now...” his voice was low, like he was very focused on what he was doing. Like he could do anything else other than sit there and _treasure_ every single touch. The sharp edge of the straight razor dragged over his skin, carefully, as Eugene tried to make a decent and even neckline. For sure that was easier to do on someone else. Merriell breathed heavily when Eugene rubbed his fingers against the skin, like that could keep it from getting irritated.

Merriell only cleared his throat and tried to open his eyes when he felt Eugene's leg bumping against his knee. The boy was now standing in front of him, slipping his slim body in the narrow space between him and the sink. He checked his sideburns once again and finally his temples. Once he considered he was done and that it was a good job, he left the straight razor aside and brushed away the hair that landed over his cheeks and forehead. Merriell blinked a couple of times with his awfully heavy eyelids.

“Take a look at yourself, let me know what you think.” Eugene took the towel from his shoulders and started to move away. Merriell stopped him with his hands on his waist. His pupils were all wide. His mouth seemed to want to confess something left to be said. Eugene blinked a couple of times and tilted his head, unaware of the reaction his gentle and overly domestic touch provoked on Merriell. How he seemed to go practically famished from something that anyone that ever been in love _should_ obtain from their beloved ones.

Eugene dropped the towel and cleaned his hands. “Okay?” maybe he was still a little agitated after Lou's confession.

Merriell licked his lips and began to caress Eugene's ribs and back. The need to touch him was unbearable. And the need to be touched was just as suffocating. How could he set his whole body on fire so easily?

Must be his desperate wish to be loved.

Or Eugene's _magical_ hands.

Eugene, who was not sure if Merriell was completely _there_ , decided to go back to the strategy he once used back at Mamaw's when he got so sick during the storm. He tried to find his eyes before he asked: “ _Merry_?”

And that _didn't_ help.

_Merry_ has been the name they called him since he was a child. A little foolish and that he was only used to hear from Mamaw and Lou, nowadays. Back in the day also from Roe, but he got rid off that habit as soon as they became teenagers. But from Eugene's lips it was so _different_. And now that he was fully conscious (so to speak), it felt like the redhead put a candy inside of his mouth and let it melt. A name pronounced with sweet lips and a delicious tongue. How could he not want to _taste_ it?

Merriell closed his eyes, trying to hold himself back. He put his hands over the sink, on each side of Eugene's body, and squeezed until his nails were hurting against the porcelain. Eugene was still touching his bare shoulders, trying to see if he was going to have some sort of panic attack. _Blessed innocence_.

“What's wrong?” he kept asking.

He looked at him with his big eyes. In that very moment, Eugene thought they were intimidating. Perhaps even a little different under the shadow his eyelashes casted upon them.

“I'm not made of wood or stone like your saints, cher. You can't touch me like _that_ and not expect me to react.”

“Like that, _how_?”

With tenderness and care. Like Merriell was something worth keeping around. Like he loved him. Like he was... some sort of partner. Like he was, finally, what Merriell wanted him to be without having to sacrifice _anything_.

The tip of his nose brushed over Eugene's cheek and slowly made its way towards his ear. “ _Like that_.” he repeated, not offering any explanation. The vibrations of his voice against the shell of his ear were enough. Eugene's eyelids flickered like the wings of a nervous butterfly. “Can I get closer to you?” Merriell's voice was low and breathless. Slower than usual.

Eugene couldn't resist it. He nodded before he could think about a wiser decision.

Having to close his eyes, he felt Merriell's warmth pressed against his body. His hair was still wet. He smelled like soap and salt. The smoke could mix those two and create a scent unequivocally his. Eugene licked his lips and rubbed his cheek against Merriell's exhaling, just to realize that the only thing that kept their skins apart was his own shirt. He wished he could rip those buttons, letting them fall and scatter all over the bathroom floor. He would never find them all. And the loss would be meaningless, for he would win so much more.

“Wanna touch it?” his mouth was still against his ear, now feeling the texture of his lips. Eugene dragged his smooth nails over his shoulders. Merriell leaned his forehead against Eugene's temple, keeping his eyes on him. He wanted his mind to escape, but he had to keep it there, just to be able to see any sign of discomfort from Eugene.

Not discomfort, determination. _Yes_. Yes, he wanted to touch it. So he nodded, a little too quickly. A little too enthusiastic. Merriell tilted his head to the side and kissed him a couple of times over the lips. Then, he took Eugene's right hand. He could feel his own ring on Merriell's finger as he dragged his palm all the way down to his chest; his dogtags bounced, cold and silver. Merriell's skin was soft and practically hairless. As his wrist got in contact with the fabric of his trousers, Merriell rotated his hand. He squeezed Eugene's fingers against his crotch, so he could feel exactly what his tender touch did to him.

The back of his neck was now moist with sweat. His whole body was getting warmer and wanting to copy Merriell's state. Eugene pressed the heel of his hand gently against the zipper of his trousers, feeling exactly the shape and the hardness of Merriell's erection. The older boy brought his hands to Eugene's face, cupping his jaw. His thumbs pressed against the corner of his lips. Eugene blinked, slowly, his eyes growing darker. He dragged his palm down and then squeezed and rubbed in a smooth motion. He drew a soft sigh out of Merriell before he kissed him once again, wet and deep.

“Can I touch you more?” Eugene asked, with glistening lips. Right now, it was impossible for him to feel fear. Or to feel lost. This was nothing _new_. He wished he could say that he was virtuous and that he _never_ touched himself in that way. Truth was that he has also been a teenager, laying on a bed with far too many doubts and desires. He indulged. A few times. He tried to correct it as much as he could, keeping the door close to not discover all too much about himself and his hands, again, above the blankets. As he did the other night. Now, the door didn't exist anymore and his hands were his to touch and discover.

He wanted _this_. The need to satisfy his curiosity was bigger than the fear of his ignorence.

“What?” Merriell replied, not expecting that.

“ _Please_?” Eugene urged him a little bit. He was not... being too fast, right? Or too _easy_? Should he worry because of those things? Did that truly matter at all while being with someone? Hoping to be more convincing, Eugene continued to rub his erection through his trousers. “I'll make it _good_ to you.”

Fuck, how could _anyone_ resist that?

“Yeah, yes. Yes.” he quickly nodded, bucking his hips forward. “ _Fuck yes_.”

Eugene's fingers were trembling so he considered it quite a success when he could open his trousers. Merriell's eyes were still on him, and that didn't help with the very evident heat on his face. The relief he obtained when he moved his head to the side didn't last long since Merriell began to bite and tug his earlobe with his teeth. Eugene sighed and finally slipped his hand inside of his trousers.

Expecting to touch another layer of clothing, he found nothing but skin and heat. But before he could go any lower than his navel, Merriell took his wrist.

“You gonna rub me _raw_.” he brought Eugene's hand to his own mouth and added: “ _Spit_.” And only to save himself from the shame of having to do it twice, Eugene gathered enough saliva inside his quite dry mouth before he spit on the palm of his hand. Then Merriell released him, making himself busy by touching Eugene as much as he could: his sides and ribs, his hips and waist, and then his back. Everything over his thin shirt and the suspenders that always stood in the way, tempting Merriell more and more each time.

He let out a long hum as soon as Eugene wrapped his fingers around his cock. Four year. Four _fucking_ years.

The redhead couldn't see it. Not properly. He could only see his hand disappearing inside of Merriell's trousers and maybe that made it _easier_. The only thing that mattered was how Merriell squeezed his eyes shut and how his tongue licked his lower lip before it moved back behind his teeth once again. He breathed heavier than usual. When Eugene started to add a proper pace to the repetitive motion, he could check the length and the thickness. If he had to draw a blind conclusion he would say that Merriell's was similar to his.

His that was just as hard after getting to touch him. Merriell noticed right away, and since Eugene did not give him the instruction to touch him, he did the next best thing. He stepped forward and placed his thigh right between Eugene's legs. The younger man looked at him, slightly confused, but not asking him to stop. Merriell cupped his buttocks and pushed him closer. He took control of Eugene's body, teaching him how to ondulate his hips to get pleasure out of the situation. When Eugene started to gasp and jerk him off at the very same pace, Merriell felt pretty damn satisfied that he decided to give it a try and _enjoy_ it.

Merriell kissed Eugene and swallowed his moans and little sighs. He was quite sure he was panting just as hard. He had his hand on his dick and he got to touch Eugene's ass as well, it was a good deal considering what Eugene said in the kitchen ( _before marriage!_ ) earlier that same morning. Perhaps he felt a little _irresistible_.

“C'mon, boy. Don't stop.” he panted against the pale skin of Eugene's neck that was getting moist and red due his own excitation and Merriell's teeth. He wouldn't last much longer. Not after spending that much time without someone else's hands on him. “ _So fuckin' good_.”

Eugene was making an effort. His forearm was hurting as he kept pumping his hand inside of Merriell's trousers. And not only that. He was far from used to the friction constantly teasing his crotch. He wouldn't last either. And he had to let him know, with his broken voice and his small words: “ _Can't, can't_.”

He was not going to waste his chance. He wanted to see that lovely face contracting in something he could not control. He wanted to see the bliss and the pleasure corrupting his features. He wanted to see the effect he had on him. So he pressed his forehead against Eugene's, both of them just as moist. “Let me see.” he licked his lips, talking quickly, a little more demanding than usual. He blamed it all to Eugene's red cheeks and rather skilled fingers. “I _wanna_ see, cher.”

They would have to blow his brains out to make him forget about that moment.

Eugene furrowed his eyebrows and parted his lips. He let out low whimper and he couldn't take it anymore. Merriell leaned in and brushed her lower lip right over the curve of Eugene's chin. He dragged his tongue over the pale pink skin and Eugene finally came practically moaning his name into his mouth. Eugene's body convulsed like there was pure electricty inside of his muscles and had to stop masturbating him for a second as his mind absolutely disconnected him from his body, not being able to see anything or hear anything more than a light whistle.

He exhaled and let his head fall heavily over Merriell's shoulder. He felt wet all over. His clothes clinging onto him, getting especially uncomfortable inside of his underwear. That was wonderful, wasn't it? Pleasure just for the sake of pleasure. Of wanting and needing a release.

A release he had yet to offer to Merriell, who was hugging him tightly against his body, with his rough palms over his back, feeling and pressing. He breathed deeply and resumed his task. His forearm was truly hurting at that point because of the complicated angle. But he wanted to give him what he got. It was stubborness and the need to feel like he was a good partner. Merriell's cock felt hard and was pulsing, at that point. He was about to come. Eugene remembered something he did to himself once, that felt rather good. His cloudy mind gave him that certain moment for that reason, only. He twisted his hand at the top and brushed his thumb over the head and Merriell began to tell him how much he _loved_ him and how much he _wanted_ him. All that with moist and sloppy kisses over his jaw until he hugged him even tighter so he could even feel how Merriell's stomach contracted against his. Then he groaned his name and Eugene's hand was all sticky.

Merriell closed his eyes and stopped squeezing Eugene against his chest. Now his fingers danced over his shoulder blades. His smile was dopey and easy. He hummed and brushed the tip of his nose against Eugene's cheek: “Can't wait for the next _haircut_. Jesus Christ, boy.”

*** * ***

The following morning, Eugene looked at himself in the mirror close to the door of their house, where Lou looked at herself, the morning before Merriell's haircut. She said that maybe she looked different. Older. More like a woman. Eugene squinted and brushed his hair a little bit with left hand. The right one was busy holding his cigarette. The ring was back on his finger like a constant reminder that what happened in that bathroom was very much real. And that it was the tangible certainty of it. Yesterday, during the afternoon, he became so self-aware of what happened that he even had the need to hide his hands inside of his pockets. Merriell looked at him and smiled fondly. He also pressed a few kisses against his forehead and eyebrows to soothe the shame. And he managed. By the time they went to Mamaw's to have dinner, he could rest them over the table.

There was nothing wrong with what he did. And there wasn't anything different in him. Not necessarily. And then he guessed that Lou said those things because, after all, sex was the secret that belonged to adulthood. And that feeling of being desired, while not enhancing anything, sure made you feel... _powerful_. In a way. Like you could provoke something in your significant other. Or someone that was simply attracted to you.

Eugene _liked_ that. He never felt all that beautiful or enchanting. He was never the one the girls called handsome. But now that he got to see how Merriell craved him as he was, he felt far more comfortable in his own skin. He looked at himself in the mirror and he could recognize himself, as someone who grew fond of his fantasies and his needs. No transformation. Maybe he has been overthinking, as usual. Maybe attraction was _never_ meant to be complicated.

He brought the cigarette to his mouth and allowed the smoke go down to his lungs, still looking at himself. Merriell was not especially silent as he headed downstairs even if he kept refusing to wear any kind of shoes inside of the house. He was yawning and scratching the back of his head. The new haircut made him look dashing. Even more than usual. Eugene had some sort of suspicion that he thought that because he was absolutely in love with the man and because he did that, himself.

“Morning.” he smiled.

Merriell blinked a little bit as soon as he saw him. “It's _Sunday_.”

“It is.” Eugene nodded, he wrapped one arm around himself, holding onto the fabric of his dressing gown over his ribs. He used that hand to support his elbow and be able to keep smoking in a comfortable position.

“Sunday _morning_.” Meriell insisted once again. “And you are _here_.”

“Yup.”

Merriell squinted for a couple of seconds and then, he couldn't help himself. “You are losing your faith because you touched my dick or...?”

Eugene snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, absolutely not. You don't really have the power to turn me into a non-believer with _only_ that.”

“Hey, there's plenty of it. No need to say _only_ like _that_.” he huffed.

Eugene continued to smile and walked past him, not before patting his cheek. Merriell tried to bite his fingers, playfully. And then he chased Eugene around the kitchen.

His faith was strong as ever, he merely wished to spend the whole day with his beloved one. Surely that could not be seen as sacrilegious. And even if it was, Eugene would _not_ repent.

 


	20. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene pressed his lips and denied once again. He kissed Merriell's lips, briefly. It was all it took to make him smile again. He once imagined Eugene as someone ruthless. Like a cruel angel that needed a foolish human to keep himself entertained. And how he would cannibalize his heart. How it would even feed it to him with a little spoon. Turns out that he only needed a simple kiss to soothe him.   
> “No such thing.” he took his hand and pulled a little bit. They sat down on the couch and it was impossible for Merriell to not try to reach out for him. He always did. Eugene didn't reject him. He couldn't, well aware of Merriell's need for affection. One would think he was hungry for it. “I just... I've been thinking. I'd like to tell Mamaw.”
> 
> OR
> 
> You think they are going to give Mamaw a surprise but she HONESTLY know everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post a week after than planned because I am a piece of trash. BUT! Enjoy my bad English and a boring chapter. I will step up my game. Eventually. Hopefully.
> 
>  
> 
> Pls, don't leave me, I'm trying. 
> 
> Anyway! Thank you so much for your comment and kudos, you are all wonderful!!  
> Now, enjoy if you can! :')

**MAY, 1946**

He has been overthinking about the invitation ever since he went to the post station and got it. First of all, it was so weird that anything that came from Burgie was addressed to him as _Merriell Shelton_ than instead _Snafu_. He wouldn't say that bullshit that Burgie only got to meet _the Marine_. He told him enough. More than he told other _brother in arms_. And he finally got to realize what was the deal with his picture and who was the one that captured his attention and... well. His heart. As corny as that sounds. Burgie knew plenty about him. Far more than people who has known him during times of peace did.

Then, the second thing that had been bothering him and perhaps the most important one was the fact that the invitation encouraged him to go to the wedding with _a date_. Burgie wanted to see if he got to charm Eugene or not. Surely he told him in the letter he wrote him (that he was happy and not alone, just that), but he also sent that scandalously late. Months later than expected.

But he did. _Eventually_.

It was pretty damn obvious that if he ever asked anyone to be his date, he would ask Eugene. But... _come on_. That would be so obvious, right? Showing up with another man would be like daring them to find out what was going on. And he didn't want to share. He didn't want to explain anything. He didn't want anyone trying to get between the two of them. Merriell couldn't promise that he would keep it civil if someone ever dared to intrude in something that took them so much to start building.

On the other hand, he wanted Eugene to meet Burgie. For some reason. To think about them both in the same room and Burgie nodding and simply smiling because Merriell got to be with Eugene made him feel... _happy_ , somehow. Maybe because he never felt like he _truly_ had friends. Growing up he had Roe, who was far too clever and too decent to indulge in Merriell's stupid ideas, most of the times. And he wouldn't even call him a friend. Like Lou, those two were family to him. Like cousins, of some sort. Mamaw always told him so: to be around them if he ever felt lonely or simply devastated.

Maybe he was a very dependant person, having to lean on the cousins and then on Eugene. Maybe he really loved the ones he cared about. No matter if they were there with him or not. He still cared about Roe (maybe he should write, as well, or ask Lou about him), he thought about his mother every single day and he loved Eugene even when he was just a miracle in his head. Now that he was a man in front of him, he loved him even more.

The wedding would be in five weeks. Ever since May started, Merriell decided to work extra hours to get a decent amount of money he could give Burgie and Florence to start their lives as a married couple. And the consequence of that was his back hurting and ending up with more splinters all over his fingers and palms. As usual, Eugene was taking care of that, with plenty of patience and a pair of tweezers.

He looked after him in the most selfless way possible. Last week was pretty rough for Merriell. He didn't get to sleep much and his own memories made him feel sick and disoriented. Eugene offered him to sleep with him so he could look after him during the whole night. And while he ended up having a fever once again and they had to use the music box to give him something grounding, letting him remember that he was very away from far, he ended up feeling much better thanks to Eugene.

Of course he wanted Burgie to meet Eugene. Maybe he simply wanted to show off and say: _look at the wonderful man I got. Crazy, right?_

“What is it?” Eugene asked, patiently, noticing that Merriell was constantly looking from his hand to his face over and over again.

“Nothin'”

“ _Mhm_. Sounds like a lie.” he smiled, still focused on his task.

“I'm thinkin' about Burgie's wedding.” he confessed.

“What about it? You don't want to go anymore?”

“No. No, it's not that. It's just...” he cleared his throat. “I don't have a suit.” he didn't. But he didn't have a date either and he didn't quite dare to ask him.

“You don't?” Eugene tilted his head and Merriel shaked his. “Want to borrow mine?”

“No.” he said, right away. If he wore Eugene's, he wouldn't have anything to wear. “No, I'll... buy one.” a waste of money.

“Why don't you ask Lou? I bet she can arrange something.” she dressed them up for Mardi Gras with very little time. For sure she could solve his problems in five weeks.

“I'll have to make some time to see her.”

“I can take care of that, if you want. I see her every afternoon.” maybe Eugene should consider either taking the street car. But so far she never complained about driving him back home from college.

Merriell shrugged a little bit. His mind was not so much on the suit but on the fact that maybe, if he dared to ask Eugene to go with him, they would have a picture together. Nor Eugene or Merriell accepted having their picture taken during Mardi Gras while looking like complete _buffoons_.

He could see it. Just sitting down next to each other. He would have his arm around the back of Eugene's chair. He would probably be smoking as well, with his cigarette close to his mouth. Smiling; pleased, happy for his friend during the best day of his life. Eugene would keep his elbows off the table because he was a classy boy with fancy manners and all. He would smile too. The picture would fail to capture his red hair, but Merriell would be able to cherish the memory in color. And maybe he would show the first picture of them to Lou's children, someday. Y _ou see that, kid? That's your uncle Eugene and I at my best friend's wedding_ , he would say.

It was scandalous how in love he was and how little he regretted having that kind of fantasies, that didn't include any sort of immoral act or intimacy. Just happiness strictly tied to the idea of _family_. He came back from war all soft, didn't he?

“Have you ever been to a wedding?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Of course.” Eugene nodded. “Do you even wear gloves while working? Of any kind?” he only got a casual hum as a reply that mean _nothing_. “This insane, Merriell.” he spent at least fifteen minutes doing that, so far.

He tried to go back to the main question. “And like... You like weddings or... what?”

“I've been having nightmares about Sid's ever since he told me.”

“When is it?” he personally wished Sid Phillips nothing but the fucking worst. He hated the man and everything he did during that weekend when he acted like a fucking _hyena_ just to hurt Eugene.

“I don't know. _Soon_ , I guess.” that _soon_ could mean before the summer ends or next year. Hard to tell. “Knowing him, he will send the invitation days before the wedding.” And that wouldn't be a good excuse for Eugene to try to tell his mother that with so little time, he couldn't convince Merriell to go with him. He feared the idea of his mother showing up like Sid did because he refused to take Merriell to Mobile.

If it's going to happen no matter what, Eugene should play his cards well. Be _clever_ about it.

Maybe change the subject for a little while would help him. Eugene didn't want to think about his mother talking to Merriell right now.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Merriell was already closer to him. He rested his right hand over Eugene's thigh, caressing up and down, smoothly. Eugene would have stopped him, but it felt _nice_ and he already took care of the splinters in that one. He liked it when Merriell touched him. He had still been... a little doubtful to undress in front of him or let him touch him as much as he did in the bathroom. But it happened during the following days after the haircut and it was... It was good. It was _so good_.

“You've been living in this house for quite some time, right?”

“Since I was fourteen or so, yeah.” he nodded, leaning in and brushing the tip of his nose against Eugene's cheek, trying to find his lips to kiss him.

Eugene rolled his eyes and kissed his lips, briefly, so he could feel satisfied and let him talk. Merriell smiled, cocky and lazy. “If you lived here alone for more than ten years,” with the break of the war, of course. “why did you take the smaller bedroom? Were you waiting for me?” he grinned a little bit, jokingly.

“You were my fuckin' dream, cher. I could only _hope_ you'd come to me.” the second kiss was earned with such tender words. Merriell didn't have enough and stole a third one before he continued to speak, with a soft and relaxed voice: “I didn't need that much, Gene. I don't like big fancy things. Don't deserve them.”

“There's a difference between feeling like you don't deserve them and not wanting them, Mer.” he caressed his palm with his, trying to feel more splinters on his flesh. It looked like he was finally done.

“Is it, _really_?”

“Well, _absolutely_.” Eugene nodded. “If it helps any sort of way,” he cupped his face and brushed his thumb over his his cheekbone. He leaned against his touch like a grateful and affectionate feline. “I do think you deserve _big fancy_ things.”

“I'll settle down for something _small_ and _red_.” he hummed.

He was such an insufferable idiot. His bad for fiding that so endearing: “Still _taller_ than you, Shelton.”

*** * ***

“Merriell needs a suit.” Eugene said, leaning against the counter.

“You are his secretary now?” Lou asked, counting the money of the day before she would close the store.

“He's working extra hours.” he explained, observing the fabric rolls carefully ordered all over the little shop.

“Are you goin' with him?” she asked.

“What? No.” Eugene frowned. “No. I... No. No, why? _No_.”

Lou arched an eyebrow. Was it truly necessary to answer the question _four_ times? “Alright?”

Eugene licked his lips and shifted a little bit, asking: “Why would I?”

“I just thought that Merry would have asked you. Since you are...” they were alone in the store, but she was trying to find the proper term. “boyfriends.”

“ _Boyfriends_!” he repeated, huffing.

Lou looked amused. “Well! Aren't you? You two did kiss. And are in love, Eugene.”

How casually she could bring it up. He has been struggling to even toy around the idea ever since they kissed in the church almost one month ago. “We didn't... We haven't...” he swallowed and shrugged a little bit. “We didn't have that conversation, yet.”

“Yeah, because you two are _idiots_.” she hummed. “I bet none of you _dares_ to bring it up.”

“That's really not nice, Lou.” Eugene crossed his arms. “We are trying. I've never had...” a relationship. And remembering all the tokens Merriell kept from his past lovers, he didn't have all that much experience when it comes to something _serious_.

The girl nodded, offering some compassion and deciding to be _nice_ about it. Boys were clueless. That was a fact. “Tell you what, Eugene. You take care of your relationship and I take care of Merry's suit. I think I can fix one of my father's to fit him. _For free_.” surely her mother wouldn't miss one suit, she kept _plenty_. And it was not like he would ever get to wear them again.

“Ah, I bet he will love that last part.” he mumbled, now unable to stop thinking about the perfect terminology to define his relationship with Merriell. Boyfriends sounds so _stupid_.

Lou smirked knowing well that Eugene would be busy overthinking to listen to her properly. “Wait ten minutes and I'll drive you home so you can _finally_ have that conversation.”

*** * ***

He really didn't like to come back to an empty house. He missed seeing Merriell sunbathing and grinning at him as soon as he stepped on the grass. Eugene tried to entertain himself by studying and doing homework for three hours every afternoon until he made it back. Around seven, Eugene began to close all of his books and linger around the door of their house.

Merriell always showed up tired, with his shoes on his hand and with a sigh leaving his lips. Eugene discovered many things after leaving Mobile, and through Merriell he saw the effort it took for some people to make money. He never thought all that much about it. His parents were still paying for his education and sent him, religiously, what they thought he would need until he would be able to support himself. He was certain that he wouldn't have been able to endure so many hours of tough work. He could only hope to make things a little more comfortable when Merriell arrived since he wouldn't accept the money Eugene wanted to lend him. But... he really wanted to speak about it. Lou had the terrible ability to spark curiosity in him.

After dropping his shoes, Merriell leaned tiredly against Eugene. The redhead wrapped his arms around him and caressed his back. His head rested heavily over his shoulder. His curls tickled his jaw.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“ _Exhausting_.” he confessed and he still had some energy to try to kiss his lips.

Eugene indulged him, cupping his face with both of his hands. Clearly, Eugene wanted to bring something up when he kissed him so lovingly and with tongue. Merriell kind of created a bit of a theory: _if there's tongue, there's a petition_. Eugene was a respectful young boy. He wouldn't just French him just because, right? Either way, Merriell took advantage of the situation, wrapping his arms tightly around him, humming against his lips.

“Merriell.” he breathed as soon as he broke the kiss.

“Oh, Eugene.” the older boy replied, his hands already getting _everywhere_. He gripped the back of his thighs, making Eugene have to stand on his tiptoes and fall over the wall behind him. Merriell rubbed his chest against his, humming and purring. He claimed to be exhausted it did look like he had _some_ energy left. Eugene turned his head a little bit, to be able to talk. Merriell assumed that he wanted him to kiss his neck. So he _did_. “Oh, cher, I've been thinkin' about this _all day long_.” Eugene could feel the vibration of his voice against his throat before he nipped his flesh. That made him sigh a little heavier. “Let's go upstairs, I'll make you feel _good_.”

Tempting. _Very tempting_.

But he couldn't take advantage of the situation, could be? It would be a little bit rude to attack him with plenty of questions in the afterglow.

“Merriell, we need to talk.” he said in the best way that he could while the veteran's lips were again all over his mouth.

As he heard those words, he stopped kissing him and frowned. “What did I do?”

“Nothing” Eugene shook his head, quickly. “I just... want to talk. That alright?”

Merriell squinted and loosened the embrace around Eugene's waist.

“Are you leavin' me?”

“Why do you always assume that I want to leave you?” one morning Eugene got mad at him because Merriell kept smoking while doing the laundry (the ash _truly_ gets everywhere) and the first thing the other man assumed was that he was going to _break up_ with him. A little overdramatic, wasn't he?

“It's gonna happen, sooner or later.” he shrugged.

Eugene pressed his lips and denied once again. He kissed Merriell's lips, briefly. It was all it took to make him smile again. He once imagined Eugene as someone _ruthless_. Like a cruel angel that needed a foolish human to keep himself entertained. And how he would cannibalize his heart. How it would even feed it to _him_ with a little spoon. Turns out that he only needed a simple kiss to soothe him.

“No such thing.” he took his hand and pulled a little bit. They sat down on the couch and it was impossible for Merriell to not try to reach out for him. He always did. Eugene didn't reject him. He couldn't, well aware of Merriell's need for affection. One would think he was _hungry_ for it. “I just... I've been thinking. I'd like to tell Mamaw.” That would be a decent excuse. And he also wanted to tell her. Same trick would solve two problems. “Lou knows.” because of Merriell's _big_ mouth. “She should know, as well. It's only fair.”

“She already knows.” she even called him a lucky boy. He liked to think he deserved Eugene. Well. He liked to trick himself into thinking that. Maybe luck was not about getting something you don't deserve. Maybe luck was about getting something you worked so hard for. A little effort, a little luck. Only way to achieve victory. “She knows _everythin_ ', Gene.”

“It's... I know. But I want to tell her?” Eugene insisted a little bit. “That we are...” he gestured a little bit with his hand, so Merriell would finish the sentence for him.

And the only reply that he got was a very confused look on Merriell's face, with his eyebrows arched and _waiting_.

“Merriell.” he tried again. _Focus_. “That we are...”

“Yeah?” he nodded, thinking that Eugene needed some encouragment to finish the sentence. But the redhead only sighed and made himself small on the couch so he dared to try and guess. “ _Together_?”

“Yeah, but!” Eugene quickly said. “ _How_?”

“What do you mean, _how_? There's more than _one_ way of being together?”

“Well, you can be together as frien—”

“Oh, Eugene, cher. Friends don't give each other _haircuts_.” he grinned.

That word now had a complete and different meaning for the both of them. It was enough to make Eugene look away and huff. _So annoying_. “My point is,” he tried to continue, once again. “I want to know... _what_ we are.”

Merriell continued to look at him with his big eyes. “ _What we are_.” he repeated.

“...Yeah.” Eugene nodded. “And... And I thought that _maybe_ you knew about this more than I do.” it was not complicated to know more than he does, in general.

“Uh...” he didn't sound very confident about that. “It's not only up to me, is it?”

 _Yes, say it. What are we?_ Eugene decided to play it cool. _Calm_. He wasn't. “Lou said _boyfriends_. It's stupid. I hate it. I don't like it one bit.” he mumbled.

“Sounds _childish_.” Merriell was twenty-five and Eugene wouldn't turn twenty-three until November. They were adults, for sure. And Merriell usually felt very old due the things he had to see and survive. But childish could also be applied to both of them, even more when they handled things as poorly as they did with this conversation.

“So...” Eugene licked his lips. “What... Is going to be...?”

“I... _Mhm_.” Merriell silenced himself and rubbed his jaw before he sat closer to Eugene, reaching out for his hands. “Gene, you know...” he squeezed his fingers. “You know I love you. You have to know.” it was not like he ever tried to pretend or hide anything. He couldn't. You couldn't hide something so obvious. Eugene added a low but sincere _I love you too_ that made him smile and kiss his knuckles. “I... I want you in my life.” he had been aching for him ever since he knew it would be him the one to bring him true happiness. “Until the very end.” when he saw Eugene smiling at that, he felt pretty damn pleased with himself, at that moment. “So, if there's a name for that, then...”

“What about _life-partners_ , then?” Eugene raised his eyebrows with a little smile over his lips. Merriell loved that expression on his face. He loved any expression that implied that Eugene was happy. “A little _generic_ , but sounds like it's our best option.”

Perhaps that term is a little less strictly related to romance, but more oriented towards commitment. _Not I will only love you until the very end, I will be there with you, as well_. And Eugene found himself more comfortable with that. The idea that, no matter what happens, they will always have each other. That they will get to experience the best and the worst together, and would face it as... _one_ , in a way. So he raised his eyebrows and hoped that Merriell felt satisfied with it.

And he reached out for him a second time, coaxing Eugene to get closer, caressing his back and kissing his face. Maybe Merriell was a little clingy, but he thought it would be very complicated for him to ever get tired of his touch. “I like that.” he breathed against his shoulder, nuzzling the tip of his nose against it.

Life-partners. A proper couple. Nothing ever brought him so much happiness.

Merriell pulled onto his suspenders, his eyes becoming a little darker. “Get on top of me, cher, let's _celebrate_.” he hummed.

Of course Merriell would want to take it a little further. Eugene didn't mind. His body was so full of love that he wanted to show him some of it. He pushed him back with the heels of his hands over his shoulders and moved each of his knees over both sides of his hips. Eugene had plenty to learn but that (move with him and use his hands), he could do it just fine.

He learned ever since the infamous haircut.

Eugene kissed Merriell's smiling lips.

*** * ***

Once they were done, Merriell had to change his shirt. That's what he got for wanting Eugene to do most of the work. It was convenient enough since he also needed a shower after a whole day of work and then some hours more than usual. He still had a foolish grin over his lips when they stepped on Mamaw's porch.

“She'll know. And I don't want her to. Wipe that smirk off your face.” Eugene scolded him with a low voice, his hand resting over the surface of the door.

“You think she'll be scandalized by that?” he snorted, amused that Eugene _still_ thought that the old woman could condemn something so natural between two young men that were, in fact, very much in love.

“Bedroom matters _belong_ and should _stay_ in the bedroom.” he sounded like he was lecturing him. Maybe he was.

“To be fair, it happened on the cou—”

“ _Merriell_.”

He grinned a little wider and nodded. Merriell cleared his throat and forced himself to look a little more serene. That, for sure, made him look far more guilty of something worse than a messy orgasm on the living room. It was a complete waste of time. Eugene sighed, hating to be a little amused about it, and walked inside of the hut.

They both kissed the older woman as a greeting. She looked tired and was far more silent than usual. Merriell asked her if she was okay and she only grumbled a little bit and nodded. Eugene could see past the exhaustion of her body and noticed, perhaps, a fading dust around her. A very old soul that was waiting for one final rest. Eugene encouraged Merriell to sit down.

Mamaw's mobility was at its worst. She could no longer serve them dinner. And if there was something anyone should know about her was that _no one_ was allowed to touch _anything_ from her house without permission. Mamaw had a very strong sense of possession. Eugene could only imagine that came after many years of feeling and knowing that she didn't own anything. She didn't complain when Eugene brought the bowls to the table. She even thanked him squeezing his hand when he rested it over her shoulder.

After Merriell asked if she wanted any of them to spend the night with her, just in case, and of course, being cursed for implying such thing, he tried again with something nicer. Something far more hopeful: “There's something Eugene and I wanna tell you, Mamaw.”

“I know, I know.” she nodded.

“I told him.” he huffed. “See?” he turned at Eugene, who smiled. “She already knows, Gene! She knows everythin'!”

“ _Someone_ has to, Merry.”

Her acid sense of humor made Eugene chuckle a little bit. He nodded and added: “I wanted to tell her. She is the one who started all this.” he looked at her with gratitude. “It's only _fair_.”

Mamaw caressed his hair and hummed, tenderly: “A silly boy as usual, Ange.” Back in the day, she made whatever she had to do to save her Merry. And she didn't doubt that Eugene would grow to be a kind boy. At first a little lost and far away from reality to understand how life worked outside a wealthy household. Now she knew that her little boy would always have someone to take care of him. Even when his soul and his mind would struggle to find peace.

“We are very happy. _Thanks_ to you.” Eugene moved closer to her. “This is the _happiest_ I have ever been in my life, Mamaw. And it's all thanks to you.” she cupped his face with her hand and Eugene bit his lower lip. “I have a home, a purpose, something to offer to people... I have Merriell.” he looked at him and the other boy smiled. Eugene thought they had so much time to be happy and together. Until the very end of their lives. And it was all because of her. He could never thank her enough. To think that Merriell was the only one who got salvation out of her deal would be plainly stupid. “And it's all because of you.” he sniffed and nodded. “So... Thanks for that.” he cleared his throat. “ _Honestly_.”

“Ain't my boy sweet, Mamaw?” Merriell whispered, fondly.

The old woman was still looking at the redhead. She didn't say _anything_ , it would have been unlike her to be overly affectionate, but Eugene could see it in her eyes: gratification, care, acceptance and finally, the relief of knowing that she did well.

“Is, now.” she pinched Eugene's chin, as she would have with a younger child. “You should have seen 'im when he arrived for the very first time.”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Merriell grinned.

“I was not _that_ bad.” Eugene snorted and shook his head. A little frustrated and perhaps out of water, but... that was about it!

*** * ***

“I'll join you outside in a minute.” Eugene told Merriell as he made sure to wash the bowls and the spoons.

“You sure?” he asked, wanting to make sure if he needed any help.

“Yeah, don't worry.” Eugene insisted and Merriell kissed Mamaw one last time with the promise of coming back tomorrow.

“I see what you are doin', Ange.” Mamaw told him as soon as Merriell closed the door.

“Oh, I don't know wh—”

“I'm old, not stupid.” she cut him right away.

Eugene sighed and wiped his hands before he walked back towards the table. He sat down on a chair. “I just want to know if you are okay. If you are _really_ okay.”

“I'm dyin'.” she confessed, simply.

Eugene became visibly anxious and mumbled: “You can't _just_ say it like that, can you?”

“I can and I did. The more you live, the less scary it becomes.” she waved her hand, carelessly. “I still have some more time, so _not a word_.” Mamaw pointed at him.

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital? May—”

“No.”

“Mamaw, listen t—”

“No. _You_ listen to _me_ , little gamin.” she cupped his cheek again, a little more forcefully than she did before. “I ain't never gonna be any close to a hospital.” it did sound like a promise. “And I ain't gonna die before I see my Merry happy and settled down and my Louloute married to a man that deserves 'er. That understood?”

Eugene stayed in silence for a couple of seconds and the old mambo pressed her thumb against his cheek, demanding an answer. “Yes, but I wan—”

“Not what _you_ want, Ange, what _I_ want.” she was an old woman. She would have to leave sooner or later, and if she had to be selfish about it, she would rather do it once she would make sure that the three of those kids would have long and beautiful lives. And there was no one that could change her mind about it. Not even a savior, himself. “Not a word about this to 'em. Last thing I need are those two messin' around my house.”

He parted his lips but she shook her head. Mamaw _didn't_ negotiate. Not even with her own life.

 


	21. Relic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone he compared to Eugene became a ghost. Anyone he ever had couldn't be compared to the one that seemed to be the only boy left alive. Eugene who was made out of flesh and smiles. Of warmth and bones. The one that gave him the most pleasure he felt by just landing those amber eyes of his on him. Any other was an anecdote, a little memory kept inside of a drawer. Some of them didn't even have a name anymore; he forgot. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Sledgefu is truly endgame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late once again, but if you follow me on Tumblr you'll be aware that May is kicking my ASS! After this I am not very sure when I'll be able to upload once again. The last thing related to my class that I have is on the 27th, so maybe after that. I am not sure! We'll see!
> 
> By now I hope you enjoy this even if it's quite boring once again.   
> Thanks for still reading this story, anyway!

Anyone he compared to Eugene became a _ghost_. Anyone he ever had couldn't be compared to the one that seemed to be the only boy left alive. Eugene who was made out of flesh and smiles. Of warmth and bones. The one that gave him the most pleasure he felt by just landing those amber eyes of his on him. Any other was an anecdote, a little memory kept inside of a drawer. Some of them didn't even have a name anymore; _he forgot_.

Merriell brushed his thumbs over the corners of the box. Back in the day, seeing those tokens helped him to go through the worst. To remind him that while he was _alone_ , he has been loved. For a little while and most of the times in a strictly physical way. But that he _could_ be loved because he has been. He only had to wait for the right person. For his boy. Now? None of that mattered. He finally had the one that was meant to be for him. Everything else became a blurr while he could see Eugene so clearly.

So, should he still try to cling to the memory of those that never mattered that much? It was necessary for him to still keep all those past experiences in a box when what he wanted was at the end of the corridor? Through the younger boy he saw that maybe he was worthy of love and compassion, after all.

 _No_. He _knew_. He now knew that he deserved those, because Eugene looked after him. Because Eugene let him sleep on his bed when he felt sick. Because Eugene prayed for him and _told_ him he was loved. How could he feel alone, now, that life was _finally_ complete?

And sure, their love had limitations and restrictions. It was a love that could only happen behind closed doors or in the sacred protection of their house. That only a few knew about, because not many would ever understand. But that didn't make it any less real. Not knowing something means that it doesn't exist. Merriell treasured their love like it was the most valuable thing he ever had. He would never want anyone else to touch and corrupt his love. After the visit of Sid Phillips he decided that _no one_ would ever have a say on what they had. Whatever that happened, it happened between the two of them. There would never be a third. There wasn't enough space for anyone to try to slip their poisonous hands between them to keep him away from his Eugene.

No way.

Merriell opened the box and saw the locks of hair, the earrings and the buttons. None of them meant anything to him anymore. Did that make him heartless? Or it was simply that he was far too in love to ever be able to recognize that any of them made him happy in any sort of way?

He took the false bottom and left it aside. Then he saw the picture Roe's mother took of them during one of her son's birthdays, a few years ago. He smiled and thought that maybe he should frame it. Put it next to his mother's picture. So he would remember, he left it over the nighstand. The little notebok was still there, with a few pages left. He no longer had the habit to write. If it could be considered as such to scribble something quckly and then rip the page in hopes that such thought would fade away. Which one was the last one? It was still there?

Merriell opened the notebook and snorted. _They say you can't miss what you never had. Such bullshit_. You already have it. You can't complain about it anymore. The idea of hurting because he didn't have Eugene seemed to be nothing but a distant dream. And he didn't want to go back to those dark times. Merriell decided to get rid off the notebook. He wouldn't be needing to do that anymore. Not when he could simply speak to Eugene about the things that worried him.

He took the whole box and headed downstairs. He loved to see Eugene there, on the couch, peacefully reading a book.

He raised his eyes and looked at him: “What do you got there?” he sounded like a strict parent. While he could never picture them taking care of a child, he often used Lou's future children (surely she would have a few, in the future) to daydream about that setting. They would be the kids' uncles and Eugene would have to be the one to act like an adult. See what the kid was hiding while Merriell promised to keep the secret.

“A box.” he replied, simply.

“Oh, _the_ box.” and just with that, Merriell could tell that Eugene knew what was inside. He failed to find that irritating.

“I don't want it anymore.” he confessed.

Eugene closed the book and patted the spot on the couch next to him.

Merriell, being unable to deny him anything, joined him.

“You are the first person I know that keeps hair of the people he's been with.” Eugene hummed with a funny little smirk over his lips.

Merriell snorted and looked away: “Plenty of people do that. That's why they sell _lockets_ , Sledgehammer.”

“Maybe you keep a lock of hair of someone who is really important to you... But you have _a few_ , in there.” he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, resting his other hand on the box over Merriell's lap.

“Not that many...” he mumbled.

“Should I be scared of waking up with you trying to cut my hair?” he looked amused.

“Don't you ever get tired of bein' mean?” Merriell huffed, turning his head hoping that his big eyes would be enough of a weapon to stop Eugene's entertainment.

They _weren't_.

“To you? _Never_.” he grinned. He laced his fingers over Merriell's shoulder and brushed the tip of his nose against Merriell's cheek. “You are sure you want to get rid off it?”

Maybe Eugene knew how important it used to be. Maybe that compassionate soul of his could picture how good it did during many lonely nights.

“I do have you, don't I?” he tried to sound casual about it. But the sweetness on Eugene's lips as he smiled was truly to die for. He stole a kiss, wanting a taste of that divine flavor.

“ _Always_.” Eugene nodded.

That had to be a dream. It will have to end, someday. He will fuck it up, and then he will be alone again. And regret this moment. Maybe start again, with a new box and new lovers. Merriell did as much as possible to stop thinking like that and leaned his forehead against Eugene's before he said: “Then I don't need anyone else.”

Such tender confession earned him plenty of kisses from Eugene. They didn't go any lower than his navel, but he didn't mind giving him some more time.

While they moaned into each other's flesh, the box was absolutely forgotten over the coffee table.

*** * ***

Eugene continued to pinch and play his lower lip, thoughtful.

“Stop doin' that. It's distractin' me.” Merriell grumbled, still not really know what to do with his bishop.

“Sounds like it's _your_ problem, Merry.” the redhead hummed before he crossed his legs, careful to not move the board with his knee. It was already balancing dangerously over the edges of the tub. When Merriell started to call his name and say that he was bored while getting a bath, Eugene showed up with the board game. Surely that was _not_ what the veteran had in mind.

But it was entertaining enough. And Eugene kept doing that thing with his lip, so...

“You are pretty fuckin' mean today, cher.”

“What can I say? I had a good teacher.”

“Wanna be disciplined?” the water swayed as he leaned forward, grinning.

“Wouldn't you _love_ that?” he snorted. “Come on! Just make your move!” he rushed him and that could only mean that Eugene already found the way to win.

“I'll move whenever I want to move. Time is not important in this game.”

“Actual—”

“Don't you even _dare_ , boy.” Merriell warned him. Eugene was the love of his life, for sure. But when he wanted to get all cocky about knowing things, be could be a little irritating. And that means a lot coming from one of the most abrasive persons _ever_.

“I'm just saying.”

“Well, don't say anythin'.” he grumbled. Merriell shifted once again and rested his elbows over the edges of the tub and kept the tips of his fingers inside of the now lukewarm water. They were wrinkly and he should get out soon. Not until he would win or get Eugene all wet. Both results would feel like a success.

Eugene smiled, a little smug, and observed him. Merriell's nudity didn't even bother him anymore. It was strange how meeting someone under the blankets could truly change your perception of them. Would the situation have happened with Eugene being the one inside the tub? It was unlikely. It was not shame. Or that he felt self-conscious about his body. Merriell was a boy, very much like him. What he had, could be found in his own flesh. _Still_... Eugene smoothed the fabric of his trousers over his thigh. Slowly, right? He could see Merriell naked, kiss him and touch him. He could be touched, kissed and he bared himself in the privacy of their bedroom.

By now it was enough... _Right_?

Eugene followed a thin droplet that fell from his collarbones and streamed down his chest.

“You have no chest hair. That's sad.” he aimed to be distracting.

“You don't, either. And your nipples look _weird_.” Merriell replied, right away, keeping his green eyes on the chess pieces. He barely had anything left: one rook, one bishop, no knights, no pawns, and the royal couple. Eugene even told him to be the white ones, this time, so he would get to have the first move. Didn't help all that much. He was _still_ losing.

“What do you mean, weird?” Eugene frowned a little bit, resisting the urge to touch his chest.

“They are _too_ pink.”

“Oh, they are supposed to be _blue_ , now?” he huffed.

“Pink is alright, too pink is weird. Just sayin'.” he repeated his words before he finally moved his bishop, getting Eugene's last knight.

Eugene got revenge when he moved his queen. “ _Check mate_.”

Merriell parted his lips, his eyes quickly going over the last chess pieces standing, to see if there was any sort of way to save the king. But no way, that bastard was truly lost. Being perfectly mature and accepting the fact that he had been defeated, he shoved the board away from him, letting it fall over the floor. Eugene could move his feet away just in time.

“Yeah, that was rea—”

He splashed some water at him. Eugene opened his mouth, beyond _offended_.

Merriell chuckled and leaned forward to smooch Eugene's face. Then started the struggle: Merriell, of course, tried to get him inside of the tub with him and Eugene tried to get that brat off him. The redhead eventually won, again, by standing up.

“You are a complete idiot. You better clean this mess. And apologize once you are done.” he soaked his whole shirt.

“Yeah, but I can see your pink nipples, so who's _winnin_ '?” he continued to smirk, very proud of himself. How could _anyone_ be such a pain in the ass?

“You are the _worst_.” he sighed before he walked out of the bathroom.

As Eugene tried to do the buttons of his dry shirt, a couple of tanned arms wrapped around his waist, tightly. Merriell's fingers spread over his stomach, humming against his neck. Apologetic and clingy as usual.

“ _Je suis vraiment désolé, cher_.” if he thought that dragging his words into another language was going to make him sound far more innocent, he was absolutely _wrong_. But did it work better than casual English? Well, _perhaps_.

If it wasn't for the fact that... “You see that I'm wearing another shirt. And you are holding me. While still being wet. Making _me_ wet.”

“Now, Eugene, keep talking like that and you'll feel something pokin' your back soon enough.”

Eugene looked down and chuckled, unable to help himself. Merriell's sense of humor was twisted and often obscene. Oh, to think this man would ever have to sit at his mother's table! What would he talk about? Would he change his nature? Would he stay silent for Eugene's sake? He didn't want to force Merriell to ever be different to please anyone around them. As foolish and unbearable as he was, he loved him.

“You must be the most ridiculous Marine I have ever met.”

And Merriell decided to be brave. It also helped that he couldn't see Eugene's face. He brushed his nose against the nape of his neck, over the collar of his shirt. He always had that sweet smell on him. _Kindness_. Had to be that. “You'll change your mind when you meet Burgie.”

“Sorry?” Eugene turned his head a little bit, trying to look at Merriell. He only saw a mass of wet curls over his shoulder.

The veteran pressed his fingertips even harder against his skin. He took a step closer. Eugene almost lost balance. Each time Merriell got insecure, he felt the need to engulf Eugene, as a tender way to ask to not leave him.

“Would you come with me?”

“To the wedding?”

“ _Yeah_...” he could hear him swallowing thickly.

“No one... would think it's... _weird_?” Eugene asked, carefully.

“They wouldn't know. They don't know us, there. Burgie wouldn't mind.” he insisted a little bit. “No one will ask. And if they do... We are _friends_.” Merriell licked his lips. “And it's _their_ wedding, right? No one will give a fuck about _us_.”

After a very long pause, Eugene nodded, slowly: “Alright.” He would want to get to know Merriell's only friend. Of course there was Romie, and he thought that the man was kind and endearing. But other than that, he wanted to get to see more of Merriell and the ones that cared about him. Also, Merriell wanted him to be there. Did he need any other reason? Maybe he shouldn't have freaked out that badly when Lou asked him the other day.

And then he remembered.

“I told Lou that you needed a suit.” he caressed Merriell's forearms, his fingers brushing over his thin wrists. “She'll do it for free.”

“That's my Lulu.” he pressed a kiss against Eugene's shoulder.

“You could have worn your uniform. It wouldn't be weird, would it?” he saw plenty of men that decided that it was a good and honorable replacement for a suit. Draw a line between veterans and civilians.

“I ain't gonna wear it ever again.” Merriell pressed another kiss against his scalp and released him with an affectionate pat on his hip.

“How so?” Eugene asked, sitting down over the bed. He noticed that Merriell brought his clothes to his bedroom so he could dress up there. He didn't look away when Merriell dropped the towel around his waist but kept his eyes on his face.

“Why would I want to wear a cage?”

The uniform was still on the floor of the closet, gathering dust and losing worth. The last time it was touched was when Eugene found the picture he took with Louise during the war. And that was _months_ ago. He doubted that Merriell tried to get the small picture back. Maybe he didn't need it anymore now that he had them back. Or maybe he didn't even dare to touch the uniform, either way, Eugene decided to not ask. But the gentle sound of his dogtags bouncing over his chest as he slid his trousers up his legs forced him to ask: “Then why keep those?”

Merriell touched them, feeling his name under his thumb. “I guess...” he doubted. “It's like the evidence that I made it back. For some reason.” He knew damn well which was the reason that made him stand up and run once again when he got shot. And why he pushed himself through anything that the war decided to throw at him. For this. For a simple life like this by Eugene's side.

A life that he hoped that would only end when one of them would die. But they had decades ahead them before that happened.

“If that makes any sense.” Merriell felt the need to add with a shrug.

“It _does_.” Eugene smiled.

*** * ***

Ever since Lou had such delicate relationship with her mother, it was impossible for them to visit her. So they met her after she closed the store. The owner trusted her ( _more than she even should_ , Merriell joked) and gave her the key so she would take care of it during the afternoons. She could only be seen during the mornings. Big woman, with blond curls and dark lipstick, Eugene recalled.

They were in the backroom. Eugene entertained himself eating an apple as Lou moved Merriell around like he was a doll and she was forcing him to try new clothes. The veteran would have thought that wearing the suit of a deceased man would feel bizarre and disturbing. The truth was that he didn't care all that much as long as he could save some money. He was exhausted of working so many hours and he didn't want to spend more money on that wedding. He only wished to show up, introduce Eugene to Burgie and then give him the envelope with a decent amount. They would have a good memory of him, and he would have a good memory of that day.

But fucking Hell. Getting married was so messy. He was kind of glad that such thing would never be an option for them. He wouldn't want to stress about money, people, food, clothes, flowers... It was far too much. Why get married when you just... not do it while being just as happy?

“Ouch.” he winced when Lou's needle poked his flesh by accident.

“Sorry.” she mumbled, in the best way she could while keeping two more of those between her teeth.

Her father was never an especially bulky man. In fact, most of the people that lived any close to the bayou tended to be underweight. _Small_. _The consequences of growing up malnourished_ , Merriell thought. But, on the other hand, it made them tough. When they had no chow back in the war, he was capable of dealing the situation as something _normal_. Others that were twice his size fainted due hunger. _Still_ , it was necessary to fix the waist of the trousers and the length both of the jacket and trousers.

As he heard Eugene stand up from his chair, he turned his head and looked at him. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. He saw him wearing an uniform, civilian clothes and now a suit. “You look weird.”

“It's not finished, yet!” Lou hissed, exasperated, taking it as an attack to her work. Merriell feared she would end up swallowing one of those needles. She had a pincushion right on her left wrist. It be simply easier to use it. But it's not like the girl ever wanted to use any _logic_.

Eugene made a funny face at Merriell when she replied like that. The older man snickered silently, not wanting to be stung once again. But the redhead continued speaking: “I think this is the first time I see you wearing a suit.”

“Won't be happenin' very often. Only weddings and funerals. Both terrible occasions.”

“Now, don't be gloomy.” Eugene shook his head, smiling. He offered him the apple he was eating and Merriell leaned forward to take a bite of it.

“You are askin' for impossibles here, Eugene.” Lou replied, kneeling folding the trousers properly so Merriell wouldn't drag him all over Texas. “I don't think he'll even be happy during _my_ wedding.”

“Let's wait and see if you manage to trick the boy to marry you, first.” he said with his mouth full.

“Real classy, Merry.”

Merriell swallowed and tried to lean in once again for another bite. Eugene huffed and let him. He asked him if he wanted an apple and said no. Look at him now. After that second taste of the apple, Merriell added, as casually as he could: “I'd walk you down the aisle.”

Lou blinked and looked at Eugene, surprised: _did he really?_ The redhead smiled, surprised that the veteran said something like that. He always pretended to be all careless and tough. In this very moment, he was even trying to ignore what he just confessed. Lou didn't have a father anymore. She did have an uncle, but Merriell knew that she would rather pick Eugene Roe over Eloy Roe. He was still here and available if the cousin didn't make it in time from Philadelphia. Who knows how things might happen or _when_.

And because it became far too silent, he had the need to continue: “Even though I know you'd pick Roe because you _don't_ love me.”

“Sometimes I do.” she grinned. In this very moment, she surely _adored_ him.

“I guess that's the best deal I can get.” Merriell sighed and focused his eyes on Eugene. He was smiling fondly at him and he couldn't help but feel happy.

The streets were rather empty. When they left their house, the sky was clear and it was even a little hot. Now the air was humid, the clouds were trying to hide the Sun, warning a heavy storm in their way. Eugene noticed how Merriell became a little tense, but forced himself to continue talking with Lou until they arrived to her home. She promised to have his suit ready as soon as possible and they said goodbye to her. Then Eugene rested a hand over Merriell's back. “Let's hurry up, okay?” he asked, softly.

The older man nodded a little stiffly.

*** * ***

Eugene closed the door and huffed. The rain did not wait for them to arrive and now they were absolutely _soaked_. He could feel the raindrops still going down his chin, his eyelashes and his nose. He brushed his hair back, away from his forehead and took a step towards Merriell. “Are you alright?”

The man licked his lips and blinked a couple of times. He was forcing himself to breathe evenly, slowly. His eyes were focused on the floor, on the small puddle he was creating because of the water his wet clothes were carrying. Eugene touched his arm and cupped his cheek, making him look at him.

He had to remember that he was no longer _there_. Merriell thought he was getting better, but every single time there was something that could remind him to either Cape Gloucester, Peleliu, Pavuvu _or_ Okinawa, his mind twisted and manipulated him into thinking he went back in time. And that this was nothing but a _dream_. That's why he wanted to focus on Eugene. That's why he _had_ to focus on the boy. He was not in his life back, then. Not really, and now he does. He is safe. And that was _all_ that should matter.

Merriell looked back at Eugene with heavy eyelids. He licked his lips, feeling the cold moisture of the rain over them. His fingers gripped Eugene's shirt; the fabric was clinging viciously to his body and he felt envious of it.

“It's okay, Merry. Come on.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around him and cupping the back of his head. “You are here with me.”

“Fuckin' hate the rain, Gene.” he mumbled. It made him think about mud and corpses and bullets. And it wasn't even thundering, yet. Then came the bombs, the screaming Marines and the crying civilians.

“It will stop soon enough.” Eugene brushed the tip of his nose against his temple and kissed his forehead. “I'm here.” he would repeat it as many times as it would be necessary.

Merriell began to push his body against his and Eugene let him do until he had to take a couple of steps back, his back soon finding the wall. He continued to caress his hair as Merriell nudged his jaw with his forehead, wanting to start something but still not really knowing how. He wanted to focus on him. For his mind to be full of Eugene. For his body to want nothing but the warmth that was now under a thin and wet layer. “I want you.” he breathed. His worry slowly becoming desire the more he managed to put the sadness behind him. He wanted to make Eugene feel good. He wanted to hear nothing but his voice moaning and asking him for more. That, the certainty of him right under his body, would break the vicious cycle he was sent to as soon as something displeasing reminded him of war.

“Merriell...” Eugene was always cautious. Of course he would be now, as well, to make sure he didn't turn sex into some sort of copying mechanism. That would only ruin their intimate life and Merriell's mental well-being.

“I'm okay.” he nodded once again, looking at him in the eye. He was not shaking, he was not crying. He was not aching to crawl out of his skin. He was tense and he only needed an anchor to keep himself from going back there. And in the same way it could be a fond memory of when he was a child, it could also be nothing but love towards the most important person in his life. He wanted to have another memory for when he would have to deal with heavy rain. Eugene's flushed cheeks and trembling chest would do just _fine_. “I promise.”

Eugene doubted for a few seconds more and only when he was sure that Merriell was telling the truth he let him kiss him. At first soft and gentle, then deeper and a little more demanding. Now he knew enough to keep up with him. But he didn't expect Merriell to not want to take it to the bedroom or even the couch in the following room. He began to grope and squeeze the flesh of his body, turning him around and making him sit on the stairs.

“What?” he quickly asked. “Still alright?” Eugene cupped Merriell's face as the older man kneeled on the floor, with his hands on Eugene's knees.

“Lay back.” he said with a low voice.

“Are you sure?” Eugene couldn't help but insist once again.

Merriell turned his head and kissed the palm of Eugene's right hand. “Yeah, lay back. Wanna make you feel good.” As good as Eugene made him feel. As good as he was to him.

And surely it was not very comfortable, with the steps digging against his back and shoulders, but then Merriell slid the suspenders down his arms and opened his shirt, peeling it off his wet skin. He was pale and lean as he was that morning when he caught Lou meassuring Eugene's chest for his Mardi Gras' costume. He remembered the thick desire on his throat and how he felt the need to smoke and bite his nails to tame it down. Now he could put his mouth on him. _Wherever he wanted_.

Merriell began with his neck, dragging his teeth over his pulse, tenderly nipping his skin. He pressed his teeth on his jaw and sucked a couple of marks over his collarbones; they would go from red to purple during the following hours. Eugene was already gasping and trying to rub himself against him by the time his lips landed on his chest. When Merriell licked Eugene's left nipple with the flat of his tongue, all he could hear was Eugene's rushed heartbeat. Not even the rain falling over their house. He was the only thing he wanted, craved and _needed_. Not even the war could cloud the experience that Eugene was. He tugged the rosy nub with with his teeth and Eugene arched his back. Merriell smiled and kissed his chest, moving towards the other one as his hand cupped his crotch and squeezed.

Eugene moaned his name and let his head fall over the step. Merriell felt especially proud when he could see the pink skin becoming more vibrant because of his lips and teeth. He looked up at him and saw that Eugene was becoming red _all over_ , in fact.

“Try to last, okay? Allow yourself to enjoy it.” Merriell said, digging his chin over Eugene's stomach.

Eugene licked his lips and nodded, sloppily. Merriell undid the buttons of Eugene's trousers and kissed his lower stomach before he wrapped his lips around his cock and _sucked_.

The redhead never fet anything like that. To compare Merriell's hand to his mouth would an insult. Merriell had to hold him down by his waist when Eugene tried to raise his body off the stairs to get deeper into the source of wetness and warmth. Eugene raised his hand and scratched the paint off the wall.

Would it always be this good?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION:
> 
> Je suis vraiment désolé, cher: I'm really sorry, darling.


	22. Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's your friend's wedding, you should show some more enthusiasm.” Eugene said as he grabbed a little mirror, a comb and his cologne from the suitcase.
> 
> “Let's see if you say the same about _your_ best friend's wedding.”
> 
> Eugene blinked for a second and parted his lips. He closed his mouth and put some cologne on the teeth of the comb and mumbled: “You got me there.” 
> 
> OR
> 
> In this house we believe that Burgie deserves the very f*cking best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a month AND two days but I'm back. 
> 
> You thought you could escape from me? ;)
> 
> I have nothing to say, really. I'm sorry for taking so long, but life got in the way and then I wanted to write other things. But this is a long chapter, so... IDK!
> 
> Enjoy!

**JUNE, 1946**

Eugene barely survived those two weeks of exams. Merriell stopped being amused by an overly stressed Eugene as soon as they had their first argument. Turns out that he leaving a cup of coffee over his notes was practically _sacrilegious_. Eugene barked at him for God knows how long and Merriell just stood there, frowning a little bit and in silence. In any other situation (one that would allow him to help Eugene to _relax_ ), this would had been entertaining and even funny to watch. But something deep inside of him itched and he decided that having a _serious_ argument with Eugene wouldn't be happening once again any time soon if he could help it.

The young man was already home when Merriell arrived. That Friday was the last day he worked extra hours. He was tired and the last thing he wanted right now was to go to the station and take the night train to arrive on time for Burgie's wedding the following morning. But he knew it was worth it. In the end, Burgie was the only friend he ever had outside New Orleans. And outside his family, considering that it would be only a matter of time until Romie and Lou would get married.

When he saw the redhead with his suitcase ready on the living room, he checked the hour and noticed that he wouldn't have much time to rest before going back to the town. He sighed and greeted Eugene, silently. He stood up as soon as he saw him, smiling.

Smiling in a way that was not all that sincere or joyful. Ever since they argued, Merriell thought that the most reasonable thing to do was to give him some space, so he could completely focus on studying. Of course, Eugene thought that he was mad at him. He wasn't. He merely didn't want to make his academic nightmare any worse.

“I hope you don't mind I packed your stuff with mine.” Eugene pointed at the suitcase where he used to store all the letters he didn't send to Merriell. Now those were in a shoe box under the veteran's bed. “I thought it would save us some time and space.” In the end, they were trying to save some money. It was far less expensive to get two tickets for a round trip to Texas at night than get a hotel and then take the train after a decent night of sleep.

“That's alright, Gene.” it made his stomach all warm and tight to think about their clothes neatly fonded together. Clearly, since that argument, not only Merriell kept himself from talking to him too much but also reduced the affection he offered to a minimum. It didn't help that the last time something happened between them was right on the stairs. Merriell couldn't stand on the first steps without getting a little bit aroused by the memory alone. Eugene even left the mark of his nails over the wall. “You arrived home early. I thought you'd want to celebrate with your classmates.”

Eugene shrugged a little bit. The redhead didn't spend that much time with them, always preferring Merriell's company over theirs. “Today was not the day. We have a train to take.” he grabbed the suitcase and walked towards him. “Shall we?”

He sounded so polite and keeping the distance. Merriell absolutely hated that. He must know that he was not mad at him, right? He couldn't be so foolish.

After extending his hand and holding his elbow, Merriell pulled him a little closer. Eugene looked down for a second before he had the courage to face those big green eyes. He offered him a bashful smile, clearly ashamed of his behavior during those last weeks. Eugene could open his ribcage and feast on his flesh and Merriell would still look at him lovingly. He pressed a soft and almost chaste kiss against his lips. Eugene replied it just as soft and just as brief.

He wasn't mad. And he should know.

“I'm sorry.” he said.

“I'm not mad.” Merriell answered. “You did well?” he asked before he kissed him again.

“I think I did _alright_.”

His boy was clever. Merriell was _sure_ of that. That was modesty talking. He he read his letters. He knew how to tell a story. He knew how to translate his own thoughts into words. And he admired that. Merriell would read everything he wrote and he would listen to every single word he spoke.

He caressed the inside of Eugene's elbow with his thumb.

“I'll make sure to get sick often so you can treat me, once you become a doctor.”

Eugene smiled and shook his head. “You are such an idiot, Mer.”

Probably. But at least he got the worry off his shoulders. After the third and last kiss, both of them left their little house in the middle of the bayou.

By the time they arrived, Lou was waiting for them, filing her nails and leaning against her uncle's car. It was complicated for the both of them to see how she grew up right under their noses and how she became someone they had to rely on, more often than not.

Of course, the girl loved to boss them around:

“Don't you even think about leavin' the suits inside of the suitcase during the whole night.” she said as she drove. “Or you will look like two idiots.”

“Who cares.” Merriell huffed.

“ _I_ care. So. As soon as you get on the train, you take them out and you hang them somewhere. I don't want to see pictures with any of you wearing a wrinkled suit.”

“Does this make you think about boot camp, Merriell?” Eugene joked.

“Even the Japs were _nicer_ than our Lulu.”

“You two should grow up.” she huffed. “It would keep me from havin' so many headaches.”

“Can't wait until you get married and Romero deals with this cranky mood of yours.” Merriell hummed.

Lou gave him a very unforgiving and nasty look. “Don't you worry about it, I'll still have the energy to call you an idiot, Merry.”

“Ah, my _Little Lulu_...”

She didn't even bother herself to continue with that argument. As soon as she parked the car close to the train station, Merriell was the first one to kiss her cheek. Eugene slipped between the two front seats and did the same right after him. “Have fun.” she said.

“As much fun as someone can have durin' a wedding.” Merriell replied as he stepped out of the car.

“Practice your fake smile for mine!” she said before he closed the door.

Eugene shook his head and smiled, waving a little bit as she drove away.

Merriell felt a little bit like a child; Eugene was the one in charge to carry their suitcase and tickets. So the only thing he had to do was follow him around until they were led towards their small and narrow cabin. Eugene had to enter first, with the suitcase bumping against his knees, because it wasn't wide enough for a passenger and their luggage. The corridor was almost wider than the space they had to move around and it wasn't even because the beds (bunks) were all that broad, either. He quickly left the suitcase over the bottom bunk so Merriell could step in and close the door after him.

“Cozy, huh?” he grinned a little bit, standing right in the middle because he couldn't possibly stand anywhere else. He sat down by the suitcase, having to bend his head forward so it wouldn't hit the top bunk. Eugene was trying his best to open the suitcase and get both suits out. He didn't doubt that Lou would give them Hell if she saw a wrinkle on the pictures. Merriell pressed his knuckles against the thin mattress. It was only a little better than the cot he used to sleep on during the war.

Well. Anything was better than the war. This was, in the end, just a fucking train. Not Okinawa.

Eugene smoothed the fabric of Merriell's suit and hanged it over the back of the door. He didn't get to see the final result. He was sure that he will look handsome. That put a small smirk over his lips. Then he did the very same with his own and closed the suitcase, putting it right under the bottom bunk. _There_. As much space as possible.

“It's a little bit like a cave.” Eugene sat down by his side. Merriell was already leaning against his forearms. He slipped a hand under Eugene's shirt, pulling it out of his trousers, and brushing the palm of his hand against Eugene's back. The redhead brushed his fingers over the thick and heavy blue blanket. A bit too much considering that it was mid June. Eugene decided that sleeping over the covers would be the wisest choice. They felt like they would be itchy.

“I like that. Small, dark... _Private_.” the small glass of the door was opaque and now covered by both suits. They only had to pull the curtains of the window of their little cabin and no one would see a _thing_. “Don't you, boy?” Merriell had his lips all over Eugene's neck once again, over the collar of his pastel yellow shirt.

“I do.” Eugene sighed and nodded, giving up easily and laying on his back right away. His knees bumped against the frail metallic leader hanging over the edge of the top bunk and Merriell hit the back of his head as soon as he tried to get on top of Eugene. He hissed and the younger man only snickered, lowly, caressing the harmed spot with his soothing and tender hands.

Merriell kissed his chin and neck, brushing his teeth against his soft and tender skin. Both of them shaved that same morning knowing that it wouldn't be the greatest idea to do so in a _moving_ train.

“I've missed spending time with you. And I'm sorry.” Eugene said once again, grabbing and fisting Merriell's shirt before he caressed the curve of his lower back.

“That's alright, cher.” he replied, casually. He didn't have to apologize to him about that. Clearly, Eugene was far more concerned about it than Merriell himself. The veteran continued to kiss his jawline, brushing the tip of his nose against his chin before he nipped it. “We were both stressed.”

“I shouldn't have screamed at you.” he barely remembered what he said. In that moment, when he saw the circular mark of coffee over his notes, he simply snapped and said the first thing that crossed his mind. “I'm so sorry, _Merry_.”

Ah, how well he could play that game! He couldn't resist him when he spoke to him like that. When he called him _that_ name. Merriell got a little more demanding, encouraging Eugene to open his legs so he could lay between them.

They were barely given enough time. Merriell got his tongue past the row of sharp and little teeth inside of Eugene's mouth, brushing it against his and obtaining sighs and small moans the more he kissed him and the wetter the contact became. It wasn't their best kiss, nor the most romantic, but the one that held the most passion after being far too tired (Merriell's body was exhausted after so many hours of hard work and Eugene's mind couldn't stand any more pressure or stress) for far too long.

The train began to move when Merriell leaned back to have enough room to undo the buttons of his shirt. He hit the back of his head, the very same spot, for the second time. He cursed and Eugene chuckled. This time he only helped him to get the garment off him.

When he returned to his arms and kissed him once again, he hooked Eugene's left leg over his arm, about to rub himself against him with no shame or patience. That was when the second interruption came. Someone knocked at the door, leaving Eugene petrified right under him. Merriell looked over his shoulder, seeing that both suits were still keeping anyone from intruding their privacy. He licked his lips but didn't say anything.

There was no need.

“The dining car will open in ten minutes!” it was only a warning.

Eugene sighed, heavily and closed his eyes.

“Is it me or that was a little thrillin'?” Merriell grinned.

“I almost had a heart attack.” he covered his eyes with his forearm. Merriell hummed and kissed his neck once more. “Come on, Merriell.” Eugene sighed. “Let's have dinner and continue later, alright?”

Merriell wanted to whine a little bit. Even beg for something quick and messy. Maybe for Eugene to stick his ass out and let Merriell dry hump him from behind through their clothes. But that would be beyond _miserable_. Maybe he did have a limit, after all.

“Sure thing.” he said before he kissed his forehead.

*** * ***

When they returned to their cabin, Eugene was yawning and dragging his feet. Merriell understood that, sadly, they wouldn't be resuming anything that night. That would be for the best. The last thing he wanted was to push Eugene or to offer him discomfort instead of pleasure. That didn't mean he didn't ogle Eugene while he changed his clothes. He did until the boy noticed and pushed him away. Merriell grinned as he leaned against the wooden wall. He merely undressed (he always slept while only wearing his underwear... or _less_ ) and got on the top bunk after he pecked Eugene's lips as a goodnight kiss.

They were so tired that none of them minded the terrible experience of having to sleep in a moving and noisy train.

Eugene was the first one to wake up. He looked at his watch over the tiny nightstand by his bunk. They still had a couple of hours until the train would arrive to Marquez. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The mattress felt even thinner in that position. Eugene stood up, swaying a little bit and climbed the thin ladder that harmed his feet. He rubbed them lightly as he sat over the edge of Merriell's bunk as he continued to sleep, soundly. Eugene sighed, a little grumpy and sleepy, and then he decided to let it go. This was a train. A _cheap_ cabin, as well. Comfort was not something he would get, so he decided to lay on his side, cuddling Merriell.

The sleeping man leaned against him, instinctively, not lashing out at him. Not having anything to fear as long as Eugene was around.

A couple of hours later, they knocked at the door, just as loudly as last night and warned them that they would arrive to their destination in less than an hour. Eugene rubbed his eyes and sighed against Merriell's collarbones. The veteran held him as close as he could and rubbed his cheek and nose against the younger man.

“Come on, Merriell. We need to get dressed.” he sighed, lazily and feeling like he could sleep for a couple of hours more. Or until noon.

“ _Mhmm_...” his lips vibrated against Eugene's neck as he hummed.

“We need to look good.”

“We already do.”

“Naked as you are? Maybe. But not fitting for a wedding.”

“ _Almost_ naked.”

Eugene smilled a little bit and patted Merriell's arm. “Come on.” he repeated before he could slip off his embrace and get to the floor. Eugene jumped instead of using that damned ladder once again.

Merriell looked at Eugene as he dressed up and grinned, lazily, each time the redhead tried to get him off the bunk by patting his hip or leg. His boy looked beautiful with his suit, even if it didn't quite manage to make his shoulders look any broader or his legs any longer. He got to see a glimpse of that Eugene that was kept inside of a house back in Mobile like a treasured possession by his parents. He couldn't blame him. He was just as precious to Merriell.

“Merriell, you won't be ready by the time we get to the station.” Eugene repeated yet once again.

“Yeah, I will.” he replied, lazily, laying on his stomach and folded his hands under his cheek.

“It's your friend's wedding, you should show some more enthusiasm.” Eugene said as he grabbed a little mirror, a comb and his cologne from the suitcase.

“Let's see if you say the same about _your_ best friend's wedding.”

Eugene blinked for a second and parted his lips. He closed his mouth and put some cologne on the teeth of the comb and mumbled: “You got me there.”

Sid's wedding would give them all plenty of headaches, he was sure of that.

When Eugene sat down to do his hair, Merriell came to the conclusion that he would no longer be entertained by the show the younger man was offering. He finally started to get dressed.

“You'll have to tie my tie.” he said as he tucked his shirt in his trousers. Lou did a good job. No one would think that was the suit of a dead man. It fit him perfectly.

“That's alright.” Eugene mumbled, focused on brushing his hair. He parted it to the side, as usual, but since the comb was moist and his hair was so thin and delicate, it stayed in place and away from his forehead, Merriell would need far more than that to keep those curls under control.

Then, he waited, leaning against the bunk and wanting a cigarette far more than he wanted breakfast. After a few more minutes, Eugene finally stood up. He looked a little younger than he was with that church hairstyle of his. Merriell wanted to run his fingers through those bright red strands and pull onto them until Eugene would gasp and whine against his shoulder.

A man could dream.

Eugene made him stand properly and began to tie his tie.

“You look good.” he said. He wasn't lying. It made him look... well. It was strange to see him wearing anything more than his trousers. But the whole suit made him look dashing. And handsome. And you'd even expect him to have a different speaking pattern. That would be a pity, though. Eugene liked Merriell as he was. So he guessed that he was pleased that clothes truly do _not_ make the man. “You should wear a suit more often.”

“Yeah?” he grinned. “When? To go to work or to stay at home?”

“For a special night, maybe.” Eugene replied, smoothing his shirt once he was done with his tie. He was about to turn to get the cologne he brought for the both of them when Merriell pulled him closer to his body.

“A special night, huh?” it was so easy to make it harder for him to breathe. “I can wear it for you whenever you want me to, boy. How lovely will be my reward, though?” Merriell licked his lips just to think about it. Maybe it was the fact that he was left alone with his most lustful thought for the last weeks, but a little voice kept asking him: _this going great and he is the best thing he has happened to you, for sure, but... When is he going to let us fuck him?_

Wasn't that quite the enigma?

Eugene became more and more confident in those matters. Merriell could only hope that it would happen soon. But he promised himself to never push him. If he wanted it too, he would let him know.

“It's getting late.” Eugene said with a smile before Merriell released him. He put some cologne on his wrists, neck and behind of his ears. Then came the most complicated part.

Merriell winced and complained like a little boy when Eugene brushed his hair. Of course, the comb broke, unable to win against that mass of thick curls. Thankfully, Eugene brought another. By the time he was done, Merriell's curls were all frizzy and made Eugene want to chuckle. But the little scowl on the veteran kept him from doing such. He used plenty of pomade to make sure that his hairstyle would last during the whole day.

*** * ***

“It's hot as Hell in here.” Merriell complained.

Eugene hushed him without looking at him.

“I'm gonna take this off.” he began grumbling, undoing the buttons of his jacket. Eugene stepped him by resting a hand on his knee and squeezing. “Jesus Christ, Gene.” he just kept being blasphemous inside of a church. That's a perfectly reasonable thing to do for Merriell.

Eugene felt a little bit like his own mother, at that very moment. When he was little, he did the very same thing as Merriell was currently doing. But at the age of twenty-five, the veteran didn't get to act like a toddler anymore.

“My feet hurt.” he mumbled.

He wasn't even standing anymore. He was simply not used to wear that kind of shoes. If he could survive a war, he could survive _this_.

Eugene was clearly not wanting to become part of his pity party, so Merriell sighed, as loud as possible and looked around. The church was rather full but nor the bride or the groom were there, yet. He took Eugene's wrist and checked the hour on his watch.

They've barely been there for ten minutes.

This would teach him patience.

When the groom finally stepped inside the church, everybody stood up. Eugene patted Merriell's side so he would do the same.

He couldn't help himself. As soon as Merriell saw Burgie, he felt _good_. He smiled when he saw his friend walking down the aisle with his mother. He looked the very same, but far happier than he ever saw him across the ocean. It makes sense. It was his wedding day, the idea is that it doesn't get any happier than this.

Maybe it does when you see your children for the first time. Not that Merriell would ever get to experience that ( _fatherhood_ ), but he assumed it will a similar thrill than he will feel when he will see Lou's babies.

The thing was that Burgie was there, safe, hopeful and with a beautiful life ahead him. And that was enough for Merriell to feel that he has been rewarded, for taking care of him and many others when they tried to survive the worst situation possible. He was happy for him because it felt like it was _fair_. Like he got exactly what he deserved: the very fucking best.

Eugene smiled a bit as he saw a special tenderness in Merriell's eyes. He never saw him being overly friendly with anyone other than Mamaw and Lou. Maybe with Romie, as well. But once again, both of them saw him more as part of their family than just a friend. He felt the need to wrap his arm around him and squeeze him tight against him. Instead Eugene leaned against him, briefly.

Burgie saw him once he was standing on the altar while he waited for the bride. He raised his bushy eyebrows as soon as he spotted him. His smile was wide and joyful. Like this day was only getting _better_. The former sergeant looked at Eugene, briefly, and then back at Merriell. He tilted his head to his side and snorted, silently. The last time Merriell spoke to him, he was absolutely devastated and pretty sure that Eugene didn't care about him because he didn't write to him during the whole war even if he had been in New Orleans from the very beginning.

And now he had the boy right by his side and looking pretty satisfied. Burgie didn't feel too surprised. He got his letter and, in the end, he learned during the war that Snafu tended to overreact quite a lot.

When the wedding march started to play, he turned around and took a deep breath. He would see Florence only when she would reach him. The guests had that privilege before he did. The first thing Eugene thought about Florence was that she was a very tall and slender girl. The second was that the veil couldn't possibly hide her big smile. It was _contagious_ even. That must be the joy to know that you are marrying a good man. From what he heard about Burgie from Merriell, there was truly no one out there better for a girl.

“He met her in Australia.” Merriell couldn't help but whisper close to Eugene's hear. He knew. He told him. “I was there when it happened.”

It was endearing to hear the hint of pride in Merriell's voice.

*** * ***

They didn't have much time to talk to the couple after the mass. They quickly moved to the reception wedding and both of them were quite hungry since they skipped breakfast because Merriell truly didn't feel like getting dressed until the very last minute.

It was quite clear this was the table of _mistmatches_. People that weren't directly related to the families. Maybe friends from work or people they've only seen a couple of times. If he had to guess, Eugene would say that the only thing they had in common would be the age (early to mid twenties). And perhaps, also the fact that they all seemed to be _single_. Since Merriell didn't recognize any of them, he kind of understood that he was the only one from all those they met during the war that could make it.

He didn't talk much. Eugene has never been an extroverted person, and he was okay with a little silence. Something was _bothering_ him.

Marlena was a beautiful girl with sad eyes. She smiled far too much to be naturally happy. Perhaps this was a reminder that she didn't have a ring on her finger. Eugene could easily imagine a strict mother back home forcing her to go to the wedding in hopes to find a man she could marry next summer. And for that reason, the idea of a mother that wished to control her life, Eugene felt a great amount of sympathy.

But that quickly disappeared when he saw her resting her hand on Merriell's forearm and play with her red curls when he spoke to her.

He didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit. But he understood that it was not on Merriell. He was being polite and Eugene knew that if he acted in any other way, he would feel the need to scold him.

Merriell was not especially impressed by the woman. Surely she was his type, with beautiful red hair and a tight dress that truly helped you imagine what kind of body she had. But there wasn't anyone in this world that could ever make him want to risk what he had with Eugene. No one was beautiful enough. No one was special enough. Not compared to his boy.

While she continued to talk to him, Merriell spotted the photographer. He didn't know how weddings worked, but he was sure that Burgie would send him the picture as soon as those would be shown to him. His friend would pick the one of the two of them and Merriell would keep it like something precious. He raised his hand and whistled, catching the young boy's attention.

“Get ready, Gene.” Merriell said as he fixed his tie, leaving the cigarette on his mouth meanwhile. “We need to look good for my Lulu.” Not a damn wrinkle, she left it quite clear.

“Right.” Eugene nodded, brushing his sleeves and pulling onto his jacket.

The photographer smiled and pointed at them: “Both?”

“Yeah.” Merriell answered for the redhead, who was secretely pleased by Marlena's worried face as soon as Merriell said _my Lulu_.

Merriell wanted the photograph to be as close as what he pictured in his imagination as possible. He put his left arm over the back of Eugene's chair. He took the cigarette off his lips, playing with it and leaning his right elbow over the table. Eugene, as he predicted, showed his good manners and his own elbows were close to his sides, holding his hands together over his lap. They both smiled and that moment _existed_. For them and for everybody that would see the picture in the future.

He couldn't wait to show it to everybody that he loved and cared about. Or that he _will_ love and care about. Sometimes he almost felt sorry for Lou's future children.

But he will buy them chocolates every Saturday to compensate.

“Thank you.” Eugene nodded to the photographer.

Merriell grinned and continued to smoke his cigarette when he felt a pair of hands landing on his shoulders.

Burgie.

He stood up and quickly pulled his old friend into a tight hug. Florence smiled as the both men patted each other's backs. She turned towards Eugene and he quickly rushed to greet her. She kissed both of his cheeks, tickling them with her sandy blond hair and giving the veterans a little time so they could tease each other in the friendliest way possible.

“You _do_ look like an idiot.” Merriell hummed. It was very strange to not see him wearing his uniform. None of them wanted to wear it if they could avoid it. That meant he had the money to buy himself a suit for his wedding and, therefore, had a job.

“Did you take a look in the mirror with that hair?” Burgie snorted.

Merriell couldn't stop smiling while he looked at him.

It was the wish to see the world balancing people's lives. It was the need to give those boys a better future in hopes to leave their violent and vicious past behind them.

“I heard no complaints so far.”

“Do you ever listen to anything that it's not a compliment?”

“Don't know, Burgie, I did listen when you barked orders.”

“Maybe it was because it was either that or _dying_.”

“Guess we'll never know.”

Burgie hummed before he turned to look at his wife and Eugene. “Florence, this is Eugene. He was part of our mortar squad.” he lied so easily. So confident. That was not betraying the bride's trust. More like giving Eugene a reason to be there other than his love for Merriell.

Eugene blinked as Burgie reached out and pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back. It was to balance both greetings between two men that, supposedly, he met in the very same place and during the very same circumstance. Without knowing him in any sort of way, but admiring his bravery and his will to accept and welcome anyone that was in Merriell's life, Eugene hugged him back.

“It was great that you two could make it.” Florence continued to smile. She was so in love that it was impossible for her to stop. She kissed Merriell's cheeks and Eugene didn't feel any sort of jealousy. “Not many of Romus' companions could make it.” she explained. “We sent invitations to, um... Bill?” she raised her eyebrows and Burgie nodded at her. “And Jay. I remember Jay from Australia.” she chuckled. “Well, and Snafu. Who could possibly forget about Snafu?”

“She said so, not me.” Merriell hummed. Burgie rolled his eyes.

“Did you also have a funny nickname, Eugene?” Florence asked curiously.

“ _Slegdehammer_.” Merriell answered for him, with the same conviction as Burgie. Eugene doubted he would ever be so confident while lying. It would be for the best to leave them to take care of the fictional part.

The redhead shrugged and smiled. “Guess it could had been way worse.”

“Oh, yeah. There were some that were quite terrible!” she giggled and nodded.

“Yeah. It was either somethin' like that or endin' anyone's name with - _ie_. Like Burgie. Or Romie.” Merriell shrugged.

And then Burgie cursed under his breath.

“You forgot to invite him, didn't you?” Merriell snorted.

“Yeah...” Burgie truly looked like he was sorry. Florence even bit her lower lip.

“I didn't tell him. Or remind you.” In the end, they knew that he survived because Merriell made sure to ask everybody until someone gave him an answer. “He's not doin' too great. They don't wanna hire him anywhere and he wouldn't want to come without a present.”

“That wasn't necessary.” he shook his head. “But I understand. One of my neighbors lost both legs...” Burgie shook his head. “They say there's nothing he can do.”

“Fuckin' sucks.” Merriell licked his lips. That issue truly irked him. “But. Y'know. He's datin' my cousin Lulu.”

“The one in the picture?”

“The one in the picture.” he nodded, grinning. “It's a matter of time until they get married, too. Which reminds me...” Merriell shifted a little bit. “Come with me, will you?”

“What for?” Burgie frowned.

“Just...” he stepped back. “For a second.”

“Right.” he mumbled and excused himself before he left his wife and Eugene alone.

They walked out of the building and Merriell rubbed the back of his neck.

“What is it?” Burgie asked.

“I just wanna...” he shrugged. “Give you this.” he took the envelope with all the money he made working extra hours.

Burgie took it when Merriell extended it towards him. He looked a little confused and when he opened and saw, roughly, the amount of money there was in there, he quickly said: “I can't accept this.”

“Ah, c'mon. Don't do that, Burgie. Hate it when people don't grab the money.” if someone ever offered him money with no consequences, he would take it without thinking twice. He never got all that many presents in his life. “Been breakin' my back to get you somethin' decent.”

“This is more than decent, Snafu.”

Merriell slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Maybe you deserve more than decent, then.”

Burgie continue to look at him.

“For fuck's sake.” he huffed. “You're gonna move with your wife. Have kids soon enough. You'll need the money. You'll need a lot of fuckin' money, Burgie. And if I can help, then... _good_.” he swallowed, aiming to sound careless.

Truth was that he wanted to keep his friend from ever suffering again. And he couldn't be there to look after him. They had different lives, they had their partners and their lives ahead him. The only thing he could do was give him the money he made. And he did that willingly and gladly.

“Snaf...”

“We deserve good things, Burgie. I truly fuckin' think that we deserve good things after all that shit. After comin' back like we were nothin'. After the nightmares, the fear and the idea that we no longer belong anywhere. The war is over, right? And we are still fuckin' sufferin' about it because it turns out that war doesn't end with a couple of bombs. Not for us. Romie back home is dealin' with far too much shit. He has my Lulu, but God knows that what he has ahead him ain't gonna be easy. At least we are gonna be there. For him. But you...” he sighed and shrugged. “I know you are gonna do fine.” Because Burgie was a clever man, willing to work and prosper. “But I wanna make sure this is the beginnin' of a beautiful life. I wanna be sure that you are gonna get what you deserve, which is the very fuckin' best.”

Burgie licked his lips and looked down for a second. Angry and frustrated as he sounded, that was the nicest thing Merriell ever said to him. He never doubted that he was a loyal friend. This was not the first time he proved him right.

He pulled Merriell into another hug. This one with no pats on the back or anything that could distract them from offering and obtaining affection. A hug that had the most tenderness two friends could offer to each other.

When Burgie leaned back, he squeezed his shoulders and smiled. Merriell rolled his eyes and nodded.

Yeah, he became way too soft after the war. No need to say that out loud. He _knew_.

“Looks like Eugene had a great impact on you, huh? You'll have to tell me how he managed.”

“You truly have the time for me to gush about my boy?” he grinned.

*** * ***

When they returned, Florence was talking with other guests and Eugene was the only one left at their table. Merriell sat down by his side and blinked a little bit when he saw the redhead smoking a pipe.

“Where did you get that?”

“Florence gave it to me. It's a present.” they were giving a fan to the ladies and a pipe to the gentlemen.

“Where's mine?” he frowned, looking around.

Eugene only shrugged and continued to smoke. He was enjoying the experience. His fingers wouldn't stink of nicotine as they did while smoking cigarettes. Also it was quite entertaining to use it. There was always something to be done about it and that could keep him from fidgeting or playing with his hands and ring.

Merriell sighed and crossed his arms, displeased that he missed the gift because he was outside with the groom. They should have given him one as well. It was only fair, he was the real guest, Eugene was only his companion. He huffed a little louder but Eugene absolutely ignored him. So Merriell decided to look at him until he would share.

But then, he quickly changed his mind and thought that Eugene could _keep_ it. To see those pale and thin lips pressing against the bit of the smoking pipe made him want to lick his own and shift a little bit on his seat. Made him want to slip his fingers inside of Eugene's mouth, feel how moist and soft it was. He wanted to kiss him, to bite his mouth and make it all red and swallowen.

When Eugene exhaled and the warm and white came out, Merriell closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Holy fuck_. He surely had to be desperate if he only the sight of Eugene smoking made him that horny and that desperate to get that mouth on him.

“What's wrong with you?” Eugene finally asked when Merriell kept huffing and puffing.

“I just have the feeling I might get hard each time you use that damn thing.”

Eugene's eyes widened and looked around. Luckily, no one was close enough to hear them. He kicked him under the table and Merriell shrugged, sulking in the most obvious way.

*** * ***

They would have to take the train back home in less than an hour.

So far, Eugene loved the experience. And maybe he even reconciled with the fact that he would also have to go to Sid's wedding. He could only expect it to be as calm and as happy as this one, with some luck.

When he returned from the bathroom, Eugene looked around, trying to find Merriell. He was no longer talking with Burgie. The veteran smiled at him and made a move with his hand so he would approach.

“Where's Merriell? We might have to leave soon.”

“He told me so. I think he was trying to find you.” he rested his hand over the back of a chair to invite him to sit down with him.

“I guess I'll wait here.” he smiled and joined him.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Burgie spoke: “I'm happy, Eugene.”

“Well, this is your wedding day after all. That's a good thing.” those were bad news if he already felt like he made a mistake.

“For Snafu.” Burgie added. “I'm happy for him.”

Eugene thought about pulling out the pipe again. Instead he played with his ring. “Are you? Does he look any... better?”

Well, he knew that answer. When Merriell arrived to New Orleans, he was rotting. His soul was so mutilated and covered in rust that couldn't even stand Eugene's eyes on him. He did his best to clean it, to make it something he could carry around and that wouldn't feel like an old and used weapon. Eugene liked to think that he was doing better. That he was _happier_. But little things like the fact that he didn't wake up scared and violent when Eugene touched him while he slept, or the fact that he didn't vomit anymore when his mind forced him to go back in time made him believe that this was the right path.

Merriell would never be able to leave the war behind, but he would be able to live with it.

“Yes.” he lowered his voice a little bit. “When we came back, he was devastated. Those six months we spent in China didn't do him any good. They tried to tell us that it was the transition time we needed.” they were forced to serve six months more. It wasn't because of any special reason. They just _had_ to do it. “And he was scared and convinced that it would only get worse and worse. But now...” he sighed and smiled a little bit. “I don't know what you've done, but it worked.”

What he did? Love him. Love him with his entire soul.

Eugene shrugged a little bit and smiled, slightly. “He might be stubborn, but not more than me.”

Burgie rested his hand over Eugene's shoulder.

He felt happy. Happy for Merriell. Happy for himself. This was the first time that someone out of their family reacted so well to the idea of them being more than friends. Eugene didn't want to ask for approval, but it felt good to have it. Burgie didn't need to allow anything to happen, he only needed to keep his mind open to understand. But he always thought that his friend was special. This was just _another_ thing that made him different from the kind of men he usually met.

Eugene couldn't help himself. He had to say it: “Thank you for taking care of him during the war.” he made sure that Merriell would return back home. He couldn't never be greateful enough for that.

Burgie grinned and replied: “Thank you for taking care of him after the war.”

*** * ***

“C'mon, cher. Talk me to me. We were only dancin'!” Merriell said as soon as Eugene closed the door of their cabin.

Everything went well until Merriell had to _ruin_ it. He spoke with Burgie, felt like he did something good and important for Merriell. Like he made his life better by being there. Like loving him had a good impact on his life and, therefore, like it could never be something _wrong_. And then turns out that Merriell was dancing with that girl Marlena.

“She asked me many times, I couldn't say no anymore, could I?” surely Merriell didn't look like the kind that was scared of saying _no_. “She told me about her mama. She's a real witch, y'know? Poor girl, she had to dance with someone before goin' home.” God knows that if he had been single, he would have taken the girl to a more private place and buried his face between her legs to give her _something_ to truly smile about. But he was in love. And he would be damned if he ever betrayed Eugene's trust.

But that was not working because Eugene was still ignoring him while he opened the suitcase and began to take his jacket off. He hated it when he was given the silent treatment.

“Gene, listen to me.” he tried to reach out for him but Eugene only gave him the jacket so he would hang it over the back of the door. “Gene!”

“ _Please_.” he said, quite authoritarian and pointed at the door once again.

Merriell huffed and did as he was told before he grabbed Eugene by the waist and pulled him closer. “Are you gonna listen to me, now?”

“You see, I'm quite busy.”

“ _Eugene_!”

“Shhht!” he frowned. “Lower your voice, will you?”

“Then stop overreactin'!”

“I'm not overreacting, you were dancing with her. And it's not because you couldn't say no, but because you wanted to.”

“I wasn't really dyin' to dance with her, she was lonely. The fuck was I supposed to say?”

Eugene stayed in silence, not knowing the answer but not willing to be reasonable. Not when envy made him the most illogical man in that train. “You miss being with a woman?”

“What?” Merriell frowned, truly not expecting that now.

“I've asked my question.” Eugene was well aware that before the war and before he arrived to New Orleans, Merriell had quite a few lovers. Both males and females. It would be way easier for him to be with a woman. He could dance with her in public. Not with Eugene. Not that he was a great dancer, anyway.

“No! Of course not. What the fuck is that, Gene?” he moved his hands from his waist to his face. “I don't miss anythin'. I am with you. I love _you_.”

“Do you think we are going too slow? Do you want more from me?” those questions had been bothering him lately. The sight of Merriell dancing with a girl was only the excuse to speak his mind.

“No.” he forced him to look at him in the eye. “Eugene, _no_.”

Eugene stumbled a little bit when the train started to move. Merriel stepped closer so his back ended up resting against the wooden wall.

“I don't want you to want anyone else. I want to be the only one.” he mumbled still with a small frown.

“You are. It was just dancin', boo.” he insisted once again.

Who would have thought that Eugene was also capable of getting jealous? It was funny, entertaining. But it wasn't the moment to laugh or even joke about it. Not when Eugene was still doubting and pouting a little bit.

“She was very beautiful, you know?” he tested him with a low voice.

“Was she? Didn't notice.” Merriell smiled a bit as he approached his face to his own. He kissed him when Eugene closed his eyes and slowly gave in. Maybe it was stupid to get jealous over _dancing_.

The redhead caressed his back, not jumping or freezing when he heard the knock on their door and the warning about the dining car. The jacket of his suit was covering the glass as it was yesterday night. He focused on Merriell and something they didn't have for quite some time. He was willing to risk dinner for some pleasure.

While they kissed, Eugene's mind kept asking him the very same question: _Merriell says he doesn't want anyone else, but why don't you give him a good reason to be the only one he desires?_

Eugene broke the kiss and pushed him back. Merriell sighed, thinking that he got mad once again. Far from that. Eugene pushed him once again, trying to get him on the bottom bunk.

“What's goin' on with you?” Merriell frowned, trying to keep himself steady as Eugene kept pressing his hands against his chest.

“Lay down.”

“That ain't m—”

“Merriell, _please_.”

He huffed but decided to do what he has been told for the second time. Once he was on his back, he raised his eyebrows at Eugene. He took Merriell's shoes off and then his own before he got on the bed with him. Merriell's hands were on his shoulders, caressing and trying to see if he could convince him to tell him what was in his mind.

Eugene decided to say it quickly: “I want to have you in my mouth.”

“What?” Merriell blinked. Eugene took his jacket off and got rid off his tie, as well. That helped him to realize that this was not a joke. It was going to happen. Eugene wanted to suck him off. And the only thing he managed to say was. “ _Fuck_.” then he quickly helped Eugene to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Eugene smiled and kissed his neck and his chest, brushing his tongue against his nipples. He remembered _perfectly_ everything that Merriell to him on the stairs of their house. Every single thing. And he was willing to repeat everything. When Merriell caressed the back of his head as he nipped the soft skin, he knew he was doing well enough.

“You'll have to tell me if I do something wrong.” Eugene said as he spoke against his stomach, pressing a few more kisses.

“Don't think you can do anythin' wrong, holy shit.” he already huffed, trying his best to undo the buttons of his trousers. Eugene was careful to not hit his head as he sat over his ankles between Merriell's legs. He pulled them down when the veteran raised his hips. “C'mere.” Eugene was mildly impressed that he was already aroused and hard. He knew by now that Merriell's response was _automatic_. Merriell held the base of his cock and cupped the back of Eugene's neck, getting him closer. “Open up, boy.”

How funny would it be to tell him that he changed his mind just to see his reaction?

Eugene rested his right left hand over his hip before he leaned forward. He parted his lips and took the head in his mouth, sucking gently and brushing his tongue against it.

“Yeah.” Merriell mumbled as he looked down at him, his hand moving from his neck to his jaw, teaching him how much he should take in his mouth and the pace that would bring him the most pleasure, slow by now. “Fuck, yes. Yes, _yes_.” he breathed. A few hours ago he was frustrated and eager just to see Eugene smoking a pipe and now he got to feel the inside of his mouth. Merriell squeezed his eyes shut when Eugene moved his tonge lazily against the slit. “Fuck me, _God_.” he hissed before he took Eugene's right hand, to replace his own around the base. “Just rub it as you go.”

Eugene tried to hum to agree with him. Basic mistake: you don't really talk while keeping your mouth busy. Luckily, the gentle vibration made Merriell's stomach tight and he thrusted his hips up, digging his heels against the thin mattress of the bunk. Eugene leaned back and coughed a little bit, wiping his lower lip with the back of his hand.

“Fuck, sorry.” he apologized as quick as possible before he pulled Eugene closer once again. “Don't stop. Keep goin'.” he breathed.

After a small nod, Eugene resumed his task. Knowing that his limitations would make him gag if he pretended that he could take more than he actually did, he tried to lick as much skin as possible. It was hard and at the very same time smooth, feeling the pulsing veins against the flat of his tongue until it became dry and he had to swallow, just to keep it moist once again. Merriell was leaning over his forearms, staring. He only closed his eyes to moan or curse under his breath.

Then he decided to do was he was told. Eugene sucked at the same pace as he rubbed his hand against the base of his dick. Now the skin was all moist and made everything far smoother. Eugene had to close his eyes to keep himself from seeing Merriell. Not because he was doing this that meant he was capable of look back at him while doing _this_.

Merriell would have wanted him to see his beautiful eyes. Or to feel the tip of Eugene's nose against his lower stomach. That big nose that he absolutely loved, beautiful as it was. But this was only the first time. And he could teach him plenty of tricks until he would get perfect at it. And after weeks without a single thing, he truly couldn't ask for more.

He laid down on his back once again, rolling his hips gently with the motion of Eugene's mouth as the redhead breathed slowly and evenly against his lower stomach. Everything about Eugene, at that very moment, was soft, warm and wet. That boy, without any sort of experience, offered him far more pleasure that anyone else he ever had. He pulled onto the thin hair and started to speed up, unable to hold himself back anymore. Eugene was stubborn to not be the one who had to stop. Thankfully, the older man changed the rhythm but not the depth. Merriell bit his lips, to keep himself from being too loud but wanting to wait more.

“ _I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come_.” he kept panting as his chest vibrated and his stomach became all tight. Eugene remembered that Merriell didn't stop when he warned him, so he assumed that he shouldn't do it either. Also, if he stopped, he wouldn't come. It was a matter of common sense, right? He still couldn't help but blink, a little startled, when he felt the warm and slightly bitter substance invade his mouth. Eugene swallowed right away, almost as a natural reflex, having to do it twice when Merriell pushed himself deeper inside of his mouth before he fell over the bed, exhausted and breathing deeply. “Fuckin' Hell, fuck. Fuck God, Jesus fuckin' Christ.” he rubbed his moist forehead and ignored the light slap Eugene gave him over his hip as he kept cursing and being all blasphemous for no reason. “Let's... uh” his mind was so slow and his body was heavy. “Let's get you somethin' to spit it out, Gene. Oh, boy. You truly kept me waitin' for it, didn't you? _Fuck_.”

Eugene cleaned his mouth once again with his hand and shrugged. “No need.”

Merriell's eyes widened and looked at him. “What do you mean _no need_?”

“I don't have to spit anything.” Eugene replied, brushing his messy hair.

“You swallowed?” Merriell's eyes looked impossibly big.

Eugene nodded, a little confused.

“You swallowed my cum?!” he whispered _scandalously_ loud.

“ _Shhht_!” Eugene huffed, feeling his face turn all warm, suddenly ashamed. “What was I supposed to do?!”

“Oh my God!” he covered his face with his hands before he burst into laughter.

Eugene tried to hush him and scold him, but there was no way to stop Merriell's amusement. Knowing the man as he did, he will never hear the end of it.

 


	23. Ecstasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene left the door open as he said that he would. The boy was laying down, anxiously playing with his fingers over his chest. There was still conviction but awareness of the fact that while he wanted it, he didn't know much about it. Eugene wished to offer Merriell pleasure, so he would want more of this and to keep doing it with him. Only with him. Not that he ever showed interest in any other person (other than dancing with that girl Marlena), but Eugene was still overthinking. That was kind of his thing.   
> As soon as he heard Merriell, he tried to sit up. The older one extended a hand towards him and said: “No. Stay there.”
> 
> OR
> 
> They finally bang. They say "I love you" a lot but I am corny, so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for being a week late. I'm trying to change my schedule and be more active and that leaves me with less time to write. And anyway. Those are excuses. I will try my best to keep posting weekly!
> 
> I always said that I was very bad at writing LeMoN/sMuT and this me, proving myself right. But I don't know how to write the whole scene in a decent way. I make it sound so boring and confusing. And I can't get too explicit because this is a mature fanfiction and I can't just change it, right? The tag is bland sex and I am supposed to give you just that!
> 
> Anyway, 23 chapters but they already banged. It's SOMETHING!!

The following morning Merriell was smiling just as wide as he did last night. Eugene couldn't possibly stand how smug he looked. It made him huff and grumble and regret he ever wanted to do anything nice for him. But that wasn't all. He also had to deal with the fact that Merriell was far more clingy than usual (and that's saying a lot); kissing him and trying to keep him as close as possible before they walked out their little cabin.

On the other hand, Merriell was also very _obedient_. He woke up and got dressed when he told him so, and that allowed them to have breakfast. Eugene wouldn't complain as long as he would behave when he had to.

But one thing Eugene noticed while they ate was that Merriell wouldn't stop looking at his lips each time to took a bite or a sip. He grinned and his eyelids became heavy, making his eyes look lustful and like he longed for what he gave him hours ago. Eugene has never been looked at in such way. Maybe because he never satisifed anyone like that, before. Or maybe because he was not sexually appealing to anyone. Only to Merriell.

Not that he would want any other person looking at him like that.

That would be a terrible and messy.

But this current situation in which he didn't feel so lost or so scared anymore was actually _thrilling_. Made him feel like he was slowly catching up with Merriell. Surely he wouldn't really know how to do more with him, but... Maybe he was finally willing to take that last step. How would it be, to have sex with him? How would it feel like? As meaningful as it is in poetry? As relevant as it is in novels?

Or perhaps it was simple and easy because it was a mundane experience?

He didn't know, but he wanted to find out.

When they stepped out of the train, Lou was there. She was _always_ there.

“How did it go?” she smiled after she was kissed by both of them. “It was a beautiful wedding?”

“Very beautiful.” Eugene nodded as he got inside of the car.

“How was the bride's dress?” she quickly asked. “I need ideas for my own. I have decided to do it myself. You know how expensive a wedding dress is? It's insane!” she huffed.

“Romie finally asked you the big question?” Merriell raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no. No.” she shook her head. “But he will. I'm sure he will. My Robert loves me, he's just...”

“Poor?”

“It's not like I'm rich, am I?” she huffed. “No, he's _insecure_. He doesn't want to ask me until he finds a job.” It was taking longer than usual, but as soon as the employers saw his missing arm, they started to make excuses and promises they didn't fulfill. “But he will ask me.” And that sounds like: _he has to_. Lou was young and foolish, but she could tell for sure that Romie was the one for her. Sweet and gentle as he was, insecure and scared, as well. She loved him with her very soul. He was the one for her.

“I'm sure he will ask you soon enough, Lou.” Eugene decided to be a little nicer than Merriell. “As soon as he has the courage and the ring.”

“He doesn't need any courage. I'd say yes. I already said yes, I'm pretty sure.” she told him many times. Sadly they didn't have the money for the wedding. Even less to start paying rent. “Eugene, it's still pretty early and it's Sunday... Do you want me to drive you to church?”

“Oh.” Eugene blinked and looked at his watch. “Yes, Lou. That'd be lovely. Thank you.” he smiled.

“Not nice, Lulu.” Merriell sulked. He hoped to get the whole Sunday alone with his boy.

“Don't be so selfish, Merry. God deserves to have Eugene one morning each week.”

He would have to share.

Lou stopped close to the church and Eugene got off the car. When she offered herself to pick him up later, he denied and said that he would walk home. He waved a little bit before he stepped inside of the church. She resumed driving.

“My Maman kicked me out.” Lou said abruptly.

“What?” Merriell frowned.

“She kicked me out. Yesterday.” she shrugged. “It got a little bit ugly.”

“Why the fuck would she do that?”

“Well. She found out that I gave you one of my father's suits.” she replied. “I don't know why she made such a big deal out of it. There are three more in her closet. You needed one and it's not like he will be wearin' them anymore, is he?”

Merriell continued to frown in silence.

“Anyway. She got real mad at me. And told me that I was an ungrateful girl. That she was tired of me. And told me to leave.”

“Do you need to stay with us?” he asked. “You can, if you want.”

“Oh, no. No, no.” she shook her head. “Don't worry about it. Mamaw let me stay with her. Even if she wakes up so _damn_ early.” Lou huffed a bit and smiled. She was not happy. Life was getting a little tougher each time. She had to stay hopeful if she wanted to carry on. “It's fine, Merry, I... I feel like things are about to change soon, y'know? Won't take much before he asks me to marry him and... And then we'll move in together. It will be alright. I can't live with my Maman forever, can I? She just...” she shrugged.

“Your mother doesn't deserve you.” Merriell always had the feeling that Lou was the one that paid the consquences of Elise's frustration. She was her first child and disenchantment hit her hard. This life was often what you made of it better than what you were given through promises and expectations.

“Oh, hush.” It made Lou smile wider, with more honesty.

“Mamaw is gonna curse your Maman. You know that, don't you?” the old woman has always liked Suzette way better. So did Merriell. The eldest sister was kinder, far more grounded and understood the importance of being there for your family.

“I know! They argued pretty badly when this happened.” she waved her right hand briefly, showing her missing fingers. Took her years to be comfortable with people seeing them. They wouldn't grow back no matter how embarrassed she felt, either way. “The last time they spoke was when the war ended in Europe. But I told her to not do anythin' about it. My siblings still need her, don't they?”

“They didn't try to stop her?”

“They are little, Merry.”

“They are not so little, Lulu.” he frowned. Being young was such a bullshit excuse for him. “Your sister is the same age as you were when we left.”

“Yeah, and it was pretty bad. I don't want her to deal with our problems. She needs to focus and finish high school. I want her to.” Lou wanted Adele to make it further than she did. It was only normal. With some luck she would go to college. Or at least Pip. One of them should go to college. Or _try_. “But I... I don't know. I was givin' my Maman part of my salary... Well, most of it. So... But I no longer live there, so that's... God, she won't get Adele out of school, will she? She can't do that _again_.” she began to ramble. “She's gonna do that again. And Adele will think it's my fault. Now that's great. It's fuckin' great.” the girl ended up whispering as she continued to drive.

“She won't do that, Lulu.” Merriell shook his head and caressed her arm.

“She will because she does that already! Each time I want to keep some money for myself, she yells at me. She says: _You want to marry that boy that is a good for nothin'? You will have to take care of him until the end of your days. Tie his shoes and his jacket, like he's your child. You'll get tired of him. You are such a selfish girl, Louise, you care more about that boy than you care about your family_.” Lou took a sharp breath and Merriell could see that her eyes were shinning. “I don't! I care just as much! But I have to live my life! I want to marry him. I'll have to do it, someday! And he's not lazy. He's not useless! My Robert is a good man. He's... If life had been a little _nicer_ , if war had been _fair_ , he'd be... He would have a job. And he would prosper, because he is always willing to work hard. So hard! He told me himself, Merry! _As soon as I find a job, we'll get married. We'll have three children. Or more. Reina, I promise you, I'll be a good father and a good husb_ _—_ ” her voice broke and her tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Merriell used to think that he didn't want to take care of anyone. He remembered those times when Roe was stuck with taking care of his little cousin and how tedious he thought it was, always trying to escape or entertaining himself by teasing her. Now, seeing her cry made him furious and devastated at the very same time. He was sure that if someone cut him open, he'd bleed her very same blood; with the same memories, hopes and fears. “Stop the car.”

Lou didn't try to fight him. She pulled over as soon as she could. The girl didn't have the time to cover her face with her hand and keep crying. Merriell held her tight against his body. He rested his chin over the crown of her head and caressed her back. Merriell might not be the one gifted with the skill of seeing or feeling someone's soul, but he could tell, by the way she cried, that she felt tired and betrayed. Her mother kicked her out and that, in Merriell's eyes, was a _sacrilege_. Lou was always willing to help the members of her family. And those who weren't, as well.

He loved her even more when he found out that she was the one to take care of Eugene until he came back from war. When you are in love, you truly appreciate the things people do for the ones you care about than what they do for you.

“My girl, don't cry.” he hushed, soothing her in the best way that he could.

“It's not fair, Merry.” she sobbed. “It's never my turn, is it? It's never... I want to have my moment, y'know? I want to have my own story, too...” she was always part of something else. Of Mamaw's scheme, of her own family. She wanted to be the protagonist, for once. She wanted to marry her boyfriend. Perhaps, if things went well, start working at an atelier as a seamstress. Or even, if she allowed herself to dream big (she didn't do that anymore, she was no longer a little girl), become a dressmaker. She wanted to have her own family. Children, in the future. She wanted to live in a little flat and wake up to the sight of her husband every morning. She didn't mind being someone's daughter, someone's friend, someone's cousin. She liked to belong to something _bigger_. But she thought that after these terrible years, she was allowed to have and _be_ a little more than that.

“You are gonna marry your boy, Lulu. You don't have to worry about that.” he pressed kisses over her dark hair. “In a few years, you'll have your children. And Eugene and I will come over every weekend.”

“...Oh, boy. _Every_ weekend?” she joked a little bit.

*** * ***

“I hate this, Merriell. She doesn't deserve it.” Eugene said as soon as they arrived home after having dinner at Mamaw's.

“I know, cher. It's messed up. But maybe it's for the best. She'll be able to keep the money and marry Romie.” the older man sighed. “And Mamaw is not getting any younger. I feel a little calmer now knowin' that someone is there with her at night.” Eugene kept his promise and didn't say anything about Mamaw's delicate health, but Merriell was not a fool. He knew well that she wouldn't be there forever. He simply kept himself from thinking about it as much as he could.

“She did say that she wanted to buy the fabric to start making her own wedding dress.” Eugene nodded. Lou seemed to be an expert when it comes to spotting silver lightnings.

“With some luck we'll go to her wedding before the summer ends.” he wrapped his arm around Eugene's waist and kissed his temple as they headed upstairs.

“If you say so...” he licked his lips. “Do you think I should worry about this? I feel like I _should_.”

“As long as she's at Mamaw's, she's safe. Nothin' to worry about. That's our Lulu, boy. She will keep it pushin'.” Merriell rubbed Eugene's lower back.

“Yeah, you are probably right.”

She would be okay, they only had to give the situation a little time.

“G'night, cher.” he kissed him one last time over the lips, chaste and dry.

That small contact made Eugene's lips _itch_.

And they continued to itch as he laid down on his bed with the lights off. He rubbed them with his fingers and began to nibble his nails. It was a rather hot night. Eugene still remembered the first summer he spent in New Orleans and how humidity made everything way _worse_. It didn't take long before he kicked the sheets off his legs. His legs seemed to be nervous because he couldn't keep them still.

Now that he was told that Lou's situation was truly not something he should worry about, his mind went back in time. To that same morning, before church. The sermon was good, but Eugene couldn't remember a single thing since he spent the whole mass thinking about how Merriell looked at him while they had breakfast and each time he brought the spoon to his mouth. Through the man he was learning _plenty_.

His collarbones and his wrists were moist with a thin layer of sweat. Eugene got off the bed and brushed his forehead, carefully combing his hair to the side. Was he about to do this? Was he really about to try and see how it goes? How it feels?

So it seems.

The young man opened the door of the closet of his room and looked at himself in the mirror. The pajamas he was wearing were thin and soft, made of linen. Surely that was not the best he ever looked but... Merriell didn't mind. He _loved_ him, already.

Eugene still tried to style his hair as much as he could with his hands and hoped that he would stop sweating once he would _calm down._

He only got more nervous when he stepped out of his room.

While taking a very deep breath, he walked down the corridor as soundless as possible. There were barely five steps between Merriell's room and his own. That was barely anything and yet, that became the most complicated walk he ever took.

The door was open because it was too warm to sleep with unnecessary privacy. And because Merriell never needed of any sort of intimacy, in his room. Not that he was shameless (maybe only a little), but that was simply the result of living with plenty of other men for four years without having a few minutes to be on his own _no matter what_. Whatever that he saw or heard, didn't bother him all too much.

Eugene rested his hand over the door and opened it some more before he leaned against the frame. “Merriell...?”

The veteran was laying on his back, with one arm folded under his head and his other hand resting over his bare stomach. He raised his eyebrows and shifted to look at him: “What is it? You can't sleep?”

“No... I can't.” Eugene denied. “But it's not _that_.”

“Then?”

Eugene licked his lips and decided to be brave. Things always went a little better when he showed some courage. He knew what he wanted and it felt like _tonight_ was _the night_. It felt only natural and his body was telling the very same as his mind did. That didn't happen often. And he didn't have to find more reasons or excuses. And he wanted it. Wasn't that enough?

“I'm going to leave the door of my room open. You are welcome to come in any time you want.” Eugene finally blurted out, perhaps not seductive or tempting enough to not sound foolish. But he managed to say it out loud and that was a _success_.

Merriell continued to look at him and while that was not the most arousing thing he heard, the way Eugene stood showed confidence. Not a lot of it, but plenty to show that the boy spoke with convinction. That he _wanted_ it. His mouth felt a little dry as Eugene took a step back caressing the frame of the door before he walked back to his room.

“...Fuck.” he finally whispered, forcing his mind to understand what was going on. And what was about to happen. Merriell jumped off his bed and looked around, frantically trying to find his t-shirt. He was not thinking clearly since the goal would be to get naked as fast as possible. After taking a little breath, he forced himself to stop for a second and _think_. Think about the things he _didn't_ have because he didn't expect this to happen _tonight_.

A good Marine improvises.

“ _Fuck_.” he said once again, as his heart was beating hard against his throat. “Okay, Merriell.” he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax his limbs. Four years since the last time. And now with Eugene. He doubted that God would want to get involved in this, but he still humbly asked for some help and to last a decent amount of time.

Thankfully Eugene was still a virgin (with some conditions and exceptions) and if he was any lucky, he would feel too overwhelmed to be aware of _time_.

Merriell would aim for that. To get him to a delirious state of bliss in which time simply _disappeared_.

He finally walked out of his room with a small huff, frustrated and stressed with how doubtful he felt. He was _good_ at this. He knew he was and he should cut it out.

Eugene left the door open as he said that he would. The boy was laying down, anxiously playing with his fingers over his chest. There was still conviction but awareness of the fact that while he wanted it, he didn't know much about it. Eugene wished to offer Merriell pleasure, so he would want more of this and to keep doing it with him. _Only_ with him. Not that he ever showed interest in any other person (other than dancing with that girl Marlena), but Eugene was still overthinking. That was kind of his thing.

As soon as he heard Merriell, he tried to sit up. The older one extended a hand towards him and said: “No. Stay there.” he closed the door with his other hand slowly approached the bed. He put one knee over the mattress and crawled towards Eugene. He looked more like a feline than ever.

His stomach was warm but there was a small smile on his lips as Merriell got on top of him. He pushed the sheets aside so their limbs wouldn't get tangled in those. They didn't need to make this any more complicated than it might already be.

“Are you sure?” Merriell asked as he cupped his cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

Eugene leaned against his touch and nodded: “It's about time.”

“You don't have to do it because you feel lik—”

Eugene interrupted him with a kiss on the lips. He wanted to do it because he felt like he was ready. And because his body and his mind told him, quite clearly, that he wouldn't be getting any sleep until he soothed that burning flame.

Merriell hummed against his lips and kissed him back. He was never too complicated to convince if there were lips involved.

It would be wise to take it easy, but when Eugene decided to take the first step and slid his tongue past Merriell's lips, the veteran moved his hands towards Eugene's chest. His noisy heart was beating hard against his thin flesh and soft skin. He started to undo the little buttons of his pajamas, noticing how Eugene was warm and slightly moist. It aroused him even more to see a soft glow over his body.

As he nibbled his lips and pulled back, Merriell breathed against his neck and jaw: “I love you, my boy. I love you so much.” Eugene licked his lips as his teeth brushed over his pulse. “You are the best damn thing that could happen to me, cher.”

It made sense that he was speaking words of love. They were about to _make_ love.

“I love you too.” Eugene closed his eyes and focused on Merriell's lips and how good they felt on him. “You know I love you.” Sometimes he was worried that he was not too... romantic. Or as effusive as the older man was. It was not that Eugene was distant or cold. It was simply how he was raised. His mother's rectitude would never completely leave him. But he was grateful that Merriell was clingy, warm and intense. It balanced their relationship.

Eugene arched his back and sighed as Merriell kissed his chest and caressed his ribs, getting his arms off the sleeves of his pajamas. _I know, I know. You love me, I know_. Wasn't that wonderful? To be able to think that he was with no bigger consequences than loving and being love in return? No shame. No fear.

“Gonna make you enjoy it, Gene. I swear.” he continued to kiss his chest and spent plenty of time on his stomach, making him giggle and sigh just as much. Eugene ran his fingers through Merriell's curls and squeezed the back of his neck, fondly. “My boy, my darling boy.” he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with how much love there was inside of him and how easily it came out of his mouth by just being given a little affection. “I won't hurt you. You trust me? I won't. I _promise_.” he looked up at him, his chin over Eugene's navel.

“I trust you.” Eugene replied without a doubt, brushing his thumb against the left corner of Merriell's lips.

He bit his thumb, fondly, before he slid the pajama bottoms down his legs. The back of his knees were also slightly moist. “You are all warm.”

“There's a fire in me. It's one of those nights.” he couldn't help it. He couldn't fight it anymore.

“Turn around, I'll help you out.” Merriell said as he licked his lips, placing his hands on Eugene's hips.

“But I want to be able to see your face.” Eugene mumbled with a little frown.

“I'm about to use it. I'll see it when I'm done with it.” he urged him a little bit, digging his fingers against his hips.

Eugene didn't really understand the _logistics_ anymore, but he decided to go with it. Truth to be told, he did feel a little _exposed_ by having to lay down on his stomach and bear most of his weight over his knees.

*** * ***

Eugene didn't know that something like _this_ could be done to someone.

No one ever told him. No one ever made any sort of reference. Not even Merriell. How he was supposed to know?

He would have asked for answers. He would have tried to get Merriell to tell him why he didn't share something like that with him sooner. But his mind was not with him. Eugene's mind was somewhere else, very far and perhaps far too distracted to care about anything that wasn't Merriell's _tongue_.

Another moan came out of his mouth without him barely noticing. He was losing control over his body: the way he curled his toes, the way his thighs trembled or how his knuckles became white when he held the headboard Merriell carved for him. It was a spark of electricity coming from the end of his spine all the way up to his skull, making him back and whimper against the pillow. The fabric was wet either with his sweat or saliva: he was not very sure. Eugene felt suffocated and soaked. It was a miracle that he managed to not come. But even if he was new at this and overwhelmed, he was stubborn to do this all the way. And finish it _properly_.

Merriell couldn't help but feel flattered. And pretty damn smug. As much as he felt that morning after Eugene sucked him off if not even more. He was well aware that he has always been rather skilled with his mouth, but seeing Eugene contort himself and grow louder than ever made him feel _glorious_. At some point he even had to hold the younger man by his hips so he wouldn't escape his lips and tongue. Not even the ache on his jaw made him stop at any moment.

But _had_ to help him. He didn't want to hurt him and he had to make sure he'd be nice and open for him before thinking about taking this any further. He had to improvise with his mouth and his fingers and while this was taking longer than it would have with any sort of lubricant, Merriell couldn't say he took this as a _tedious task_. He was probably having the time of his life with Eugene's reactions.

It was only his own eagerness and how frustrating it was becoming to be hard and still confined in his underwear what finally made him lean back when he was sure that Eugene would be able to take him without any sort of discomfort. Merriell caressed Eugene's hips with his left hand as he pulled his fingers out of him. “Turn around, boy.” he hummed before he pressed a kiss over his lower back.

Eugene merely let himself fall over his side and then moved, slow and lazy, until he got on his back. He was blushed all the way down to his neck and collarbones. His thin hair was all messy and a few locks glued to his pearled forehead. He could barely keep his eyes open or his legs from falling over the bed. Merriell loved that sight. He leaned forward and kissed his cheeks and brushed the hair away from his face. Eugene swallowed thickly and covered his mouth with the palm of his hand squeezed his chin as a way to say: _what a wicked tongue that you have_.

“I love you.” Merriell reminded him, holding onto his wrist. Maybe he was saying it too much but it wasn't like he could _stop_.

“I know...” Eugene sighed with a small and tired smile. “But you either put it in already or you'll kill me.”

“And you say I'm the dramatic one.”

“ _You are_.”

Merriell grinned and kissed his hand one last time before he leaned over his knees. He undressed as quick as he was capable of and returned between Eugene's legs. He placed his hands over his hips once again and dragged him closer to him. Eugene's thighs ended up over Merriell's. The redhead looked up at him, breathing slow but deep. He couldn't reach him from that position, so he touched his own stomach, feeling it burning and still tight after the stimulation. Eugene had to fight the temptation to touch himself, so he kept his eyes on the other man. Merriell looked back at him as he spat on his hand and spread the saliva all over the shaft of his dick, letting out a heavy and low sigh. He will have to make sure to not get lost in the moment as soon as he gets inside of him.

After hovering over him and making him fold his legs, Merriell brushed the tip of his nose against Eugene's and warned him: “If I hurt you, you hafta tell me, alright? Right away.”

Eugene nodded, closing his eyes: “Right away.”

“Okay...” so he would have something to hold onto while he pushed forward, Merriell wrapped his arm around Eugene's right leg and left his other hand over his waist. With his forehead over the other boy's, he would be able to tell if he was truly hurting him or not. And then, it was the moment he has been waiting for since... God knows when. He was pretty sure that he wanted to have sex with his boy before he even became real. And once he did, the need only grew stronger. Now that they were in love, this was all that he ever wanted.

Eugene dug his fingers over Merriell's shoulders as he felt him getting inside of him. It was a little bit strange, but not more than his fingers felt. Not strange because it was bad, but strange because it was new. But at the same time, it felt good and natural. And like there was something inside of him that longed to be complete. And was about to. “Yes, _okay_.” he breathed and nodded.

Merriell chewed his lower lip and forced himself to go slow. He continued to push forward, deeper. The more he could feel him, the more tempting it was to give in. But he wanted to make everything about Eugene and his pleasure. He kissed his face again and exhaled once his hips were tightly pressed against Eugene's inner thighs. “... _Fuck_.”

“Alright?” Eugene quickly asked as he opened his eyes, panting slightly and his cheeks just as warm and as red as they were moments ago.

“You feel so good.” all tight. All warm. All his. “ _Too_ good.”

“Shut up.” Eugene huffed.

Merriell grinned and kissed him on the lips before he pulled back just to start rocking his hips, testing and making himself moan. Eugene felt honestly too good and Merriell doubted he would last a decent amount of time. The redhead wrapped his legs loosely around his narrow waist. With each movement from Merriell's hips, his heels brushed over the mattress underneath them.

“I love you.” Eugene was the first one to say it this time. And Merriell didn't think he truly deserved any of this: this happiness without consequences or deadlines. Eugene's hands cupped his face and he kissed him a few times, tenderly, making the older man melt. “I love you, Merry. So much.”

He didn't think he ever felt more complete or happier than he was in that moment. There was pure hope, bright and burning, inside of his chest.

Merriell looked at Eugene with love and adoration in his eyes. He was rewarded with a sweet smile and his thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. Then he slid his arms around his neck and Merriell buried his face on Eugene's hair as his right hand sneaked between their bodies to wrap his fingers around his cock.

He tried his best to match his hand to his hips and give Eugene the best experience someone could have. He once told him that first times were often _disappointing_. He aimed to prove both of them wrong that night.

*** * ***

Merriell woke up first the next morning.

Eugene was still laying on his stomach, breathing low and even. There was _nothing_ better he could ever woke up to. His boy, with his pale skin and red hair, under the sunlight over the mattress must be the closest thing to Heaven he would ever get to witness. He caressed his folded arm over the pillow, in front of his face. His lips brushed over his shoulder as he kissed his skin, that was warm and soft. The memory of last night made him smile.

Eugene sighed deeply and slowly turned around. Merriell wrapped his arm around his waist and kissed his temple and his cheek before he rested his chin over the pillow, so he could continue to look at him.

“Hi...” the boy said as he rubbed his eyes with his hand.

“Morning.”

“You have to leave already?” Eugene asked after a little pause, needing a couple of seconds so his brain would start working properly.

“I still have time.” Merriell said before he kept himself busy with his lips close to his neck. “How are you feelin'?”

“So far so good.” Eugene caressed Merriell's arm over his body.

“And, like... emotionally?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Huh?” he tilted his head.

“If you regret or anythin'...?”

“Why would I?”

“Don't know. Catholics regret pretty much everythin', don't they?”

That made Eugene chuckle. “Yeah, we kind of do...” he bit his lower lip as he continued to smile. “But, no. I don't regret anything. It was the closest thing to a religious ecstasy I could ever be.”

“The fuck is that, Gene?” of course, Eugene would be the only one with the guts to compare sex with some sort of catholic bullshit.

“Religious ecstasy is when feel pure euphoria and happiness and you understand which is your role in life... But a little different. It's the greatest joy anyone could ever feel.” And while God failed to give him that in twenty-two years, Merriell did in just one night. That was surely a little blasphemous, but he truly had the time of his life and he didn't have it in him to pretend anymore.

Merriell frowned a little bit and shifted, leaning his head over the palm of his hand, looking down at him: “Who feels that? Other than you, apparently. Saints?”

“Some saints, some martyrs. Even some nuns an—”And Eugene regretted ever answering that question because he saw how Merriell's eyes changed.

He was about to make a crude joke.

“I don't think any nun would let anyone knock at their—”

“Merriell, _don't_.” surely he tried to stop him.

“— _back door_.”

But that never worked.

Eugene truly had to lay there, seeing how pleased he looked about being able to finish his terrible sentence. “You are just terrible.” he had to let him know.

“Yeah, that's... _Yes_. That's pretty much who I am.” Merriell nodded while he smirked. “And yet you are stuck with me, _forever_. It's well known that catholics have to stay with the ones that take their virgnity until the very end.”

“That's not actually corre—”

“Eugene, don't tell me you are gettin' all frisky! What would your Mama say?!”

Absolutely _insufferable_. And now he even had to bring up his mother. After a long night of sex. Who does that? Well. The man he decided to love. That's who did that. Eugene groaned and covered his face with his hands. “You are truly a curse, Merriell.”

“Oh, boy. You have _no_ idea!” the cajun sounded so damn cheerful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION: 
> 
> Reina: Queen.


	24. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just be nice to him, alright?” he had to lick his lips once again, his mouth was still dry. “Please.”  
> “Eugene—”  
> “He's my friend.” he didn't let her continue. “He's my best friend here. He's like my family.”  
> “Don't say that, Eugene, you don't know how much it hurts me to hear it. We are your family.” Mary Frank's voice was firm like she was not willing to allow him to even consider Merriell as part of his family. Of course, if she didn't want Merriell to be part of that privileged few, he shouldn't even think about mentioning Mamaw or Lou. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Let's get ready for some drama, kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! This chapter is a little shorter than usual and not very important or interesting BUT I can tell you that I am very thrilled to finally be able to write about Merry going to Alabama. I have planned the following four chapters or so and I hope you will like those. I can't wait to get dramatic!!
> 
> Until then, enjoy this one!!

**JULY, 1946**

During the Fourth, Eugene thought he was going to lose Merriell. At some point, the veteran also thought he losing himself. Or at least his _sanity_.

It was like couldn't _think_. Like he couldn't _breathe_. The weather was just like across the Pacific: warm and humid and the firworks were _bombs_. He was back in war and Merriell got so sick that not even the little music box or kind words could help him anymore. He tasted the mud under his tongue and saw blood on his nails. He twisted and screamed in their bed and Eugene did his best to keep his steady. Nursing him back to health and back to _New Orleans_.

He didn't try to reach out for Mamaw or Lou because he didn't want to worry them. And he was pretty sure that the young girl would be just as busy with Romie, if not more. It was a bomb the one that took his arm, after all. And Mamaw was an old woman; her bones her frail and she wouldn't be able to do much to help him immobilize Merriell so he wouldn't hurt himself. Because the older boy wouldn't stop pulling his hair or rubbing his eyes, either to stop thinking or seeing. And everything because of a damned party. Of patriotism and joy that was destroying the ones that decided to fight for what their country was supposed to stand for.

Eugene forced him to drink later, changed the bedding when those were soaked with Merriell's sweat and tried to keep his body cold and his mind calm. It was tiring, for sure. And Eugene was glad he didn't have to go to class anymore. The only moment he left the house was when Merriell was sleeping and was mostly to find Lou and ask her to warn Merriell's boss that he wouldn't be able to make it to work.

She didn't ask any questions. She merely said that she was working because Romie was being taken care of by his mother. She didn't look like she didn't sleep either and like she saw the very face of war, sad and violent as it was. Eugene kissed her forehead and headed back to their little house in the bayou.

The following day was not any better but least Merriell managed to stomach a little bit of food. Eugene was starting to feel exhausted, but he couldn't sleep while the other man still needed his help. He sat down on a chair close to the bed and held his hand, caressing it and squeezing it each time he twisted or his breathing began to speed up.

It wasn't until two days later, on Sunday, that Merriell was capable of getting out of bed.

Eugene was sipping a coffee, assuming that the veteran was still sleeping. He looked tired. He looked beyond drained because he was. Worried as well. His soul was itching with worry and frustration. Everything would be way easier if none of this ever happened. If no one ever gave Merriell a rifle. How unfair it was to have your life destroyed even if you were the one that survived and that, apparently, was on the winning side.

There's truly no sense of victory in war.

“Hey.” Merriell mumbled, leaning against the door of the kitchen. Eugene quickly began to stand up but he stopped it with a hand. “I'm fine. Stay there, you look terrible.”

“Oh, thanks.” Eugene huffed softly with a small smile. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah...” he rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair. His scalp was still moist. He desperately needed a shower. “I truly thought it would be getting better with time.” this had been even worse than that one time back at Mamaw's during that terrible storm.

“This is something unlikely to happen. You _are_ getting better, Merriell.” Eugene insisted a little bit. He truly thought that Merriell was getting a little better. He could see it. His soul would never shine like the ones that managed to avoid violence, horror and death. But that didn't mean he was broken. Only that he had to live with the things that he could survive.

He didn't buy it, though. Each time this happened, it felt like he was going back in time. Merriell thought that the more he pretended to act like a civilian, the less he would feel like a Marine. No such luck. He poured himself a cup of coffee with far too much sugar. “Must be exasperating to be with someone who needs you take care of him like a baby once each two or three months, huh?”

Merriell was a man. He was twenty-five. Only six months more until he would turn twenty-six. Most of the men he knew of that age either had children or a wife. And while that was no longer a possibility for him, he hated the idea of Eugene seeing him weak as a kid. He would want him to admire him. To be proud of him. To... God fucking forbid that maybe Eugene looked up to him. Only a little. Not to idolize him but to be able to _respect_ him.

Eugene didn't think that at all. It was in his nature to take care of others. As his own mother always told him, that was his _gift_. It was his purpose and he learned how to be proud of it. If there was anything that Eugene could do to help him, he would do it. Without a doubt. But maybe that raw honesty would only make Merriell feel more exposed, so he joked with a small smile: “And here I thought I _always_ had to take care of you like a baby...”

Merriell snorted but there was no amusement in his voice or features.

The redhead felt guilty right away.

“Hey...” Eugene held his hand and gently made him get closer. Merriell sat on his lap and sighed, resting his forehead against his. He ached for his presence, for his touch. “You are doing well and I am proud of you.” he rested his hand on Merriell's knee, over the fabric of his pajamas ( _Eugene's_ , Merriell sweated all of his clothes).

“Proud?” he huffed, cynical.

“Yes, Merriell. Very proud. Here you _are_ , aren't you? Out of the bed and feeling much better.”

“After four fuckin' days, Gene.”

“Four is better than five.” he shrugged.

Merriell furrowed his nose, far from pleased with that answer even if he did have a point. “I'm still _sorry_.” he grumbled, lowly.

“Well, don't be because it's pointless. I don't mind. I'm here for you.”

And that always feels so good to know and to hear. Merriell left his coffee over the table and kissed Eugene on the lips. The redhead was smiling against his mouth and replied the contact, sweet and tender as he was.

Of course, Merriell didn't have enough with _only_ that. He turned Eugene's head to the side and started to bite and suck onto his neck, wanting to leave a few of his marks. “Missed you like crazy.”

“You were barely conscious, Merriell.” Eugene said, patiently. Ever since they had sex for the very first time, the eldest had been trying to get him back to the bed as often as possible. Or the couch. Or wherever they would be comfortable enough. Eugene couldn't pretend that he didn't want it just as much, but now it was not the moment.

“Still. My soul missed yours.”

Oh, such _lies_.

“Absolutely not.” Eugene finally leaned his head back. Merriell frowned and parted his lips, devastated. “You stink and I need some sleep. Once those two problems are solved then... Maybe. Now get off my lap.”

“You are _ruthless_.” he said as he obeyed him.

“I thought that was what you liked the most about me.” the redhead grinned.

_Maybe_.

*** * ***

Life was not going to give him a break any time soon.

Each time Eugene went to the post office, he feared _the worst_. Not only he had to call his parents, but he also had to check if the invitation to Sid's wedding arrived. It was terrible of him to hope that in the end Mary didn't forgive his stupid behavior or that he perhaps forgot to invite him. But just thinking about going back to Mobile made him feel _sick_.

He always took a deep breath before opening the door. He asked if he got mail and, sadly, that morning he _did_. Eugene no longer expected Eddie to write back to him. So he kind of stopped writing to his little brother. Whatever that was happening, would have to be solved as soon as he would see him. He didn't look forward to that, really. But it was his obligation as the eldest to try to understand his brother. See why he felt so hurt by him.

So... Eugene bit his lower lip and there it was. An invitation for Eugene Sledge and his date. And in this, he didn't have to make any excuse on why Merriell would be there. His mother left it quite clear that if he went to Sid's wedding, Merriell would have to go with him so she would get to see him. God forbid she would ever return to New Orleans. She had enough with visiting once and maybe that was for the best.

He grabbed the phone and doubted for a second. He could pretend that he never got the invitation. He could pretend that he didn't remember to call her or simply show up without Merriell. Or not showing up at all. Eugene hated to think that he was becoming a liar, but he didn't want to let his mother know. She wouldn't approve and that would hurt him. Maybe even push Merriell away from him. But... as a son, he owed her respect and honesty... right?

Eugene exhaled and finally called _home_.

“Yes?” it was Tee who picked the phone.

“Hey, it's Eugene. Is my mother there?”

“Yes, give me a second.” Eugene nodded and leaned against the wall. “She will be here in a second. How are you doing?”

Eugene couldn't help but smile: “I'm doing fine. What about you and Rose?”

“I'm doing well. Rose had a bit of an accident a couple of weeks ago, but she is alright.”

“Is she really?” Eugene couldn't help but show a little bit of concern.

“Nothing you should worry about.” then there was a little pause. “Ma'am, it's your son,”

Eugene could hear his mother thanking their butler before he gave her the phone: “Eugene?” that would be the first name she would pronounce at the mention of _son_ , no matter who called, either Eugene or Eddie.

“Hello.” he played with Sid's invitation. “So, the 17th of August. It's going to be _Hellish_ in that church.”

“Oh, hush.” Mary Frank quickly silenced him. “Are you going to bring a date?”

“How many people do you want me to bring? You already want to meet Merriell.”

“It would be lovely to meet your friend and your future wife during the same day.”

Oh, well. That's truly not likely to happen. Not now, not ever.

“I am not seeing any girl, mother.” Eugene replied, with patience. “And I am not sure if Merriell will be able to make it. He works a lot.”

“Then that's because you don't want to, Eugene. A clever and handsome boy like you... A future doctor, you shouldn't have any problem finding a girl. It's about time. You are going to turn twenty-three in November.”

“I remember my own birthday.”

“Eugene, I really don't like that tone. You are losing your manners.”

And he felt so guilty after that. He always felt guilty when his mother scolded him. His lips felt a little dry and whispered: “Sorry.”

“Alright. Now, back to Merriell.” another topic just as delicate if not more. “I'm sure he will be able to visit us for a couple of days. Isn't he allowed to have a few days off? I don't think he will have any problem with that.”

It was very easy for her mother to say that considering she never had a job. Eugene worked back at the bookstore for a few months and then tried to help at hospital and he _still_ didn't know how it was to work as hard as Merriell did. And he probably never would, thankfully.

“I guess.” Eugene said weakly, losing. It always felt like losing against her.

“I'm very curious about the man he became.”

“He's rather... _unique_.” Eugene was sure that she wouldn't like him. Merriell was too reckless and cheeky for his mother to consider him anything but imprudent and brash. “And he is not like us, so don't... scare him off, alright?”

“I would never!”

Oh, yes. She would. She absolutely would and he quite feared that she _will_.

“Just be nice to him, alright?” he had to lick his lips once again, his mouth was still dry. “ _Please_.”

“Eugene—”

“He's my _friend_.” he didn't let her continue. “He's my best friend here. He's like my _family_.”

“Don't say that, Eugene, you don't know how much it hurts me to hear it. _We_ are your family.” Mary Frank's voice was firm like she was not willing to allow him to even _consider_ Merriell as part of his family. Of course, if she didn't want Merriell to be part of that _privileged few_ , he shouldn't even think about mentioning Mamaw or Lou.

And he _did_ think about them as his family more often than he thought about his mother or brother. His father earned Eugene's love and respect with sympathy and tenderness. You can't get something for nothing. Not even _family_.

“Right.” he sounded so submissive. He _hated_ it.

*** * ***

“Girl, what the Hell is wrong with you?” Merriell asked that evening at Mamaw's house.

Lou kept playing with her food. As soon as she got home, she started sewing and working on her future wedding dress, but she didn't look especially hopeful or cheerful. In fact, ever since her mother kicked her out, she had been rather quiet and even a little bit distant. Merriell hated that. Turns out that he liked his Lulu abrassive and nosy as she was.

“Nothin' is. I'm just not very hungry.” she shrugged.

Lou? Not hungry? Yeah, he didn't buy it.

“You can talk to us, Lou. If you want.” Eugene offered, always trying to bring a kinder option to the table. While Merriell was caring and loving, he could be a little ruthless.

“I don't have anythin' to say.” she insisted.

And that was also a lie. Eugene knew her well enough by now. She had the intimidating skill to be able to talk about _anything_. Small talk was no challenge for the girl.

“I'm not fuckin' buyin' this, Lulu. So spit it out.”

“Hush, leave the girl alone.” Mamaw hissed finally. “If she don't wanna talk, you two boys are gonna stop askin' her questions.”

Ever since Lou moved in with Mamaw, she was even far more protective than usual and Merriell knew it was because she felt like Lou was _helpless_. Mamaw was a grumpy and not very affectionate woman, but God forbid she was not going to shelter those that who stepped inside of her house.

“Right.” Merriell frowned, thinking that maybe he should have worried a little more about this.

Lou smiled a bit and shrugged. It truly didn't feel like anything. _Meaningless_.

*** * ***

“I don't like this, Gene.” Merriell said in their way home. “There's somethin' goin' on.”

Eugene nodded. For sure.

“You... You don't think she's pregnant, do you?” he cleared his throat.

“She's not married yet, Merriell.” he quickly denied.

“You don't need a ring on your finger to get pregnant, cher.” he was stressed. “If he got her pregnant and he won't marry her, I swear, Gene. I love that boy, but if he did, I will kill him with my bare hands.”

“If such thing happened, Mamaw would have done something about it, already.” Eugene truly didn't doubt that the Mamaw still had a few tricks that could _easily_ destroy a man's life.

Merriell parted his lips and ended up nodding. Yes, that was _true_.

“I still don't like this. Feels weird.” they were both used to Lou oversharing. Constantly knowing how she felt or what was happening in her life.

Eugene sighed and patted his back as they walked inside of their house. And since the redhead didn't feel like keeping any secrets tonight, he said: “Are you ready for more bad news?”

“You are leavin' me.” Merriell said.

“No.” Eugene wasn't even surprised. Merriell kept assuming he was going to abandon him someday. “In fact quite the opposite.”

“How can you ask me the opposite?” he frowned. They were already doing the opposite.

“This arrived.” Eugene pulled the invitation out of his pocket. “And... And my mother... She wants to meet you, Merriell. And Sid's wedding seems to be the perfect excuse for her.” he could barely force the words out of his mouth. This felt far too real. The danger was far too near.

“...” Merriell only looked at him and even stopped blinking. Perhaps for a couple of seconds, he even stopped breathing. That was... _a lot_. That was meeting the parents. _Officially_. While not specifying what kind of relationship that they had. That was going to Eugene's house, to Eugene's town, and hope for the best and pray that they don't notice that they were anything more than friends. Because if they did, Merriell was kind of sure that he would never get to leave Mobile with all of his limbs and features untouched. “... _Uh_.” he gulped.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. But it doesn't have to...” he rushed to say without really knowing how to convince him that it didn't have to be a _bad_ experience. “I mean... Sid didn't say anything. So far. He hasn't.” and he better keep his mouth shut or Eugene will have to get mad for real, this time. “And he won't. And... Mer, she's been... Asking and asking. And at this point...” he scratched his collarbones. Eugene didn't know how to disobey his mother. He still didn't dare. Not when he would have to see her in less than a month and live in the same house as her for a couple of days. “I tried to tell her that you work but not even that... convinces her. I... I understand if you don't want to come.” If Merriell's family was like his own, for sure he wouldn't go to have dinner with Mamaw every single night. “But I think... it would be _good_.” he had to try to change his own mind first, right? “Also! My father will be there.” his father was always a good reason to go back home. Maybe the only one he truly had. “He will like you no matter what. He likes _me_ no matter what.”

“You are his son, Gene. Of course he likes you.” Merriell's voice was soft, for some reason.

“Yes, but he likes me... Like _this_.” he gestured at himself and then at the both of them. “He knew. He noticed and he was okay with that. So that's... That's...” _relieving_. Like he could breathe around him. “ _Good_.”

Merriell frowned a little bit and put his hands on his hips, keeping his eyes on Eugene, still.

“Look. I... I know you don't want to go.” Eugene tried once again, taking a step towards him. “But it will be _fine_.”

“Well, when your friend Sid Phillips came over, I truly thought that I was gonna lose you.” Merriell confessed. “And I don't wanna deal with that feelin' again. Was not a great fuckin' time for me, Gene.”

“It wasn't for me, either!” he quickly rushed to say. “But you know that nothing can keep me there. This is my home, now. I like it here. I don't want to leave New Orleans. Or _you_.” he left his hands over Merriell's forearms, squeezing.

“You don't even want this yourself.” Merriell tried to fight back. “You don't even wanna go to that wedding. Or go to your parent's house, but you are gonna do it. Why? You could lie. Say you are sick. Or that you simply don't wanna deal with them ever again.”

“I can't do that.” Eugene shook his head. “I would regret.”

“It's about time you learn how to not go through the things you don't want in your life without feelin' bad about it, cher. Will save you tons of suffering, y'know?” he huffed.

“It's Sid's wedding. I _have_ to be there.” he shook his head, not allowing Merriell to tempt him. “And I fear that if we don't go, she might come _here_.” and that would be simply terrible.

“Oh God.” Merriell breathed. That was terrifying. He didn't want anyone else in his house. He was forced to let Sid Phillips stay and he was not going to open the door of his home for more people that would want to tear them apart.

“ _Exactly_.” Eugene pressed his lips and brushed his thumbs over Merriell's forearms. “I'm sure we'll be just fine.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do. I promise you. Nothing will happen. We'll be just fine.”

“Gene, your family and I...” he had to say it. “We are _very_ different. Very, very, very different. What makes you think they would approve? Not that we are way _more_ than friends, but me, as a person?” because Merriell didn't have an education. He wouldn't become a lawyer or a doctor, like their son. He was just a man that had to wake up very early in the morning and work plenty of hours to make a living. He had no ambition to be anything more than that. The only thing he wanted in his life was to be with Eugene as much time as possible.

“She knows where you come from. She met you before I did, remember?” Eugene tried to smile a little bit.

“She sees me as your patient or your charity case at best, boy.” Merriell huffed. “He won't see me as anythin' more than that.”

“Well. I do.” Eugene carefully sneaked his arms around Merriell's waist, tilting his head to the side. “You are the most important person in my life. God knows I am not lying when I say I wouldn't risk you for _anything_ or _anyone_.”

That sounded too good to be true. Merriell sighed and rested his forehead against Eugene's. “I'm gonna remind you said that when your Mama makes you pick.”

“She _wouldn't_.”

Merriell doubted he truly meant that. So did Eugene.

“I love you.” Eugene tried once again. About that, he was absolutely sure.

“I love you too, boy. You know that but this...” he mumbled, weakly, giving in because he couldn't deny Eugene a single fucking thing.

“It will be fine, Merry.” Eugene knew which cards he had to play. He held him tenderly and mumbled once again: “I promise you. Everything will be fine and we'll be back home to never worry about those matters ever again.”

Merriell knew that it wouldn't be so simple. But okay. If he asked him, he would do it. He kissed Eugene's neck and jaw and caressed the back of his head. “Alright, then.” he sighed. “But if I freak out back at your parents... Don't expect me to stay.” he had limits. And dignity.

“Don't worry about it, my father is a doctor. He treated the soldiers from the Great War. He won't be scandalized.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure they will be scandalized as soon as I open my mouth.” Merriell grinned a little bit.

Eugene rolled his eyes, amused. “Then keep it shut, Shelton.”

“And forget about the joy and pleasure that brings you while being open? _Mhmm_...”

“Keep hoping. None of that will happen at my parents' house.” Eugene pushed him away, playfully.

“And yet another reason why we _shouldn't_ go!”

But they would. And Merriell could only hope that God would be on their side.

On Eugene's, at least.

 


	25. Dogma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Eugene... he always felt very conflicted around his mother. He loved her. She was his mother and he loved her. But it wasn't like the love he had for his father, that was weightless. The one he had for his mother came with conditions and with a doctrine that Eugene had to follow and never question to keep her happy. Still, her smell and the soft fabric of her dress gave him a nostalgic reminder that he was safe with her.  
> Safe in the least freeing sense of the word. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Mary Frank should chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer to your question is YES. Mary probably pegged Sid. 
> 
> I also really wanted to write about Merry going to Alabama and while it's not great, I actually enjoyed writing this chapter.  
> Anyway, each time I have far less things to say. This story is getting too long.  
> ENJOY!!

**AUGUST, 1946**

“You've been nervous during the whole trip, boy.” Merriell joked as Eugene kept playing with his pipe. The cajun still felt a little bit bitter about the fact that he didn't get one at Burgie's wedding. Still, Eugene was no longer smoking, just keeping his fingers entertained. “Should I be worried this might be a trap?” he grinned, hoping that would help him calm down.

“No. Not a trap.” Eugene sighed. “But a nightmare? _Probably_.” the redhead was truly not having great expectations about this visit. Or the wedding. He was not especially thrilled about it. He should be, but wasn't. He was sure that he would be far happier if he went back to Burgie's again or Lou's. That last one would be the happiest event for the both of them, he was sure. They wouldn't have to leave New Orleans. “I'm trying to stay positive, Merriell.”

“I can tell.”

“ _But_ I am having a hard time not freaking out.” he confessed.

“They are your family, Eugene. You ain't got nothin' to worry about. That's your home, your parents, your terrible friend Sid Phillips.” Merriell despised him. Very much so.

“He is not that terrible. He is simply...” Eugene sighed and looked through the window. Oh, Lord, they were already arriving to the station. Way too soon. “ _Stupid_.”

“That he is.” he hummed, happily.

“Alright. Okay.” Eugene took a deep breath as the train slowly stopped. “Everything is going to be fine.” he told himself, closing his eyes.

Eugene should be the one reassuring Merriell. In the end, it was the veteran who was getting into something entirely new and with a family that was most likely to see his flaws and pick them apart. Not only that, also probably witness how they want to keep their sweet special boy away from one wicked son of a bitch. But he didn't have it in him to make this any more stressful for Eugene, so he rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, softly. “Yeah, Gene. Just fine. C'mon, boy.”

He nodded and grabbed his suitcase. This time they brought two; it would look _strange_ , if not.

Everything was going to be so _strange_ and they would have to try their make best to make it look _normal_. Eugene didn't want to pretend, but he didn't have any other chance with his mother. Or his brother.

His father... Eugene toyed with the idea of telling his father. _Maybe_. He knew he would be okay with it. With _them_. That he would shake Merriell's hand and welcome him into the family even if it was through the back door and as a secret guest. But he didn't think they could ask for much more than this. His family was not Merriell's. His mother was not Mamaw and his brother was not Lou.

But telling his mother? That would be pretty damn stupid. He would have to be completely illogical to dare to say those words in the presence of his mother. Eugene even felt like torturing himself by thinking about it while they took the taxi that would take them to his former house.

First of all, she would force him to admit it like it was a big confession. Like that was something he should say inside of a confessional, while waiting for atonement and penance. Eugene didn't have it in him anymore to blame himself for feeling something so natural and that made him feel so good. His love towards Merriell made him feel nothing but pure joy, so far.

Then, she would cry. Eugene felt like she would cry. He never saw his mother crying, before. But he knew that she loved to make him feel guilty. And the boy knew himself pretty well. If he saw his mother crying, she would be able to force him into doing whatever she wanted. And he didn't even doubt she would cry _for real_. But that didn't make it any less manipulative.

Happiness had to be approved by Mary Frank for Eugene to enjoy it.

Third, she would tell him that it was a disappointment. That he got corrupted. And if she tried to blame Merriell (there was no one to blame and nothing to condemn), Eugene was sure that he would take the man's side. Eugene loved him with his entire soul. And the fear and submission he had towards his mother couldn't be compared with the pure adoration he had for him.

And finally, his family would be broken and while Eugene didn't know if that would set him free, he didn't want to feel like he was alone. Because if he argued with his mother, he would lose his father as well. And he didn't want that.

So not a damn chance.

The plan was to pretend they were just friends and deal with it.

This was not going to be an act of bravery. Those had no place in such oppressive environments. Eugene will look after himself and Merriell and keep themselves from unnecessary judgment.

Nothing was going to destroy what took so long so build.

Not even his own mother.

Merriell, instead, couldn't help but feel amused as he looked at Eugene. The boy was nodding at himself, here and there, like he was trying to motivate himself or convince his own mind either to do or not do something. He knew him, by now, and he trusted him. His boy was wise and proper. He would always take the right choice and know better. Merriell was far more... passionate. He didn't always have the time to think before acting. Sometimes he regretted opening his mouth right in the same moments words came out of it.

Did he think this was going to be complicated? Yes. He would feel judged and like he was being... analyzed. Those were fancy people. _Rich_. Merriell wasn't. And he met plenty of posh kids in New Orleans to know that they had no problem to sneer at him because of he was raised in the bayou, barely had any money in his pocket or under his mattress and seemed to come from a _doubtful ancestry_.

Then add to the mix his poor education and complete lack of manners and they will assume he is a complete savage. But Merriell was going to make sure to copy everything that Eugene did. If he had to keep his elbows off the table for a couple of days, then he could do that.

And for a little while it seemed to be easy. But then he saw the house and... _fuck_. It was intimidating.

To begin with, it was far too big. His little rotten house in the middle of a swamp couldn't compare to this manor. Come on, it wasn't even a garden, it was a proper estate what the Sledges had. Merriell huffed a little bit and brushed his hair. Yeah, this will be quite a test for his confidence.

“Let's just... get out.” he heard Eugene mumble before he stepped out of the car.

Merriell rushed to do the same and took his suitcase, still looking around with very curious eyes. The columns on the porch were white and so was the door. He stood on tiptoes and raised his eyebrows before he followed Eugene, keeping his old shoes off their grass and walking over the dirt road.

“You are far too quiet.” the worry in Eugene's voice was obvious.

Merriell was still unable to look at him, quite impressed with the view. Maybe this revealed how humble his background really was.

“Well, fuck me, Gene. Didn't know you were a goddamn prince.” the veteran finally whistled.

“Don't do that. None of this is mine.”

“Not yet, but it _will_ be.”

“Half of it.”

“Half of this is far better than I'll ever get.”

“I like your house better.” and there's no way Merriell could argue with him about that. Mostly because they were finally standing on the porch and the act was about to _start_.

Eugene took a deep breath and decided to simply open the door instead of knocking. He was not supposed to be a stranger inside of that house even if he was pretending to be someone else. Someone he _used_ to be.

Merriell followed him with the very same curious eyes, not missing a single detail. And he used that as a distraction because Eugene didn't feel like he was at home. Not anymore. He left the suitcase close to the stairs and took Merriell's to do the same with it. The doors of the house were so wide there were _two_ to enter any other room. That seemed like a foolish detail but that gave away how big the house truly was. He cleaned his hands over his thin shirt.

“Come...” Eugene mumbled, touching his left wrist.

The redhead chased the gentle noise of delicate porcelain clicking. He could already picture his mother ordering things around and getting rid of the dust, mostly to entertain herself. She was only a room away from him. And it was like she had a sixth sense, because as soon as he looked at her, silently, she turned around and saw him.

Mary Frank smiled and Eugene felt relieved, by now. The woman let out a little sigh and extended her arms towards him. He doubted for a second but then took a step forward and met her halfway. Merriell gave them some privacy and a couple of seconds alone, but he couldn't help but notice how possessive the embrace of his mother was. Mary Frank was holding him tightly, with her arms over Eugene's (it was her who had the power) and with one of her hands cupping the back of his head, willing to keep him safe from any sort of harm.

And Eugene... he always felt very conflicted around his mother. He loved her. She was his mother and he loved her. But it wasn't like the love he had for his father, that was weightless. The one he had for his mother came with conditions and with a doctrine that Eugene had to follow and never question to keep her happy. Still, her smell and the soft fabric of her dress gave him a nostalgic reminder that he was safe with her.

Safe in the least freeing sense of the word.

Merriell didn't bring any attention to himself. He always felt... fascinated by mothers. They were so different. Roe's couldn't be compared to Eugene's. Nor Romie's to Lou's, for example. Each one was different. Some more loving than others. Some more understanding. The truth was that he would never know for sure how _his_ was. He could only try to get the very best from each one and compose the personality of the late Alma Chenier.

He stopped staring when he heard some footsteps approaching to the dinning room. Merriell turned his head and found a man by the doorframe. A man whose eyes were shinning with pride and care as soon as he saw his son being held by Mary Frank. Curiously, Merriell never thought about his own father all that much. Mamaw left quite clear that she knew nothing about him when he was little and he kind of stopped wasting his time about someone he would never know anything about.

As the eyes of the doctor landed on him, Merriell gave him a doubtful smile. He smiled back and the veteran assumed that _had_ to be a good thing, right? Edward entered inside of the room and offered him his hand. Merriell cleaned his palm once again against the fabric of his trousers and shook it.

“Merriell, if I am not mistaken.”

“Merriell Shelton.” he nodded, hoping to God that his palms wouldn't start sweating right now.

Eugene squirmed a little bit in his mother's arms, wanting to take a look at the other two. Mary Frank was not letting him go. It was a little suffocating.

“Eugene told us plenty about you.” Not that much and only because he _had_ to. “I'm really happy to meet you. How did you find life back home?” for some reason it didn't sound like he was prying.

“Uh...” Merriell frowned a bit, not expecting the question. That moment of doubt allowed him to recover his hand. “Eugene's company surely helped me a lot. It's nice to not be surrounded by enemies.” even if this house did feel like hostile territory.

“I'm sure.” the man kept smiling and he didn't quite understand why. Was that innocence? Or he didn't care that his son was wasting his life while living with a tormeted veteran?

“Mother, please.”

It didn't look like Mary Frank had enough, but she released her son. The woman squeezed his shoulders and folded the collar of his shirt properly. “Let me look at you.” she said with devotion. While Mary Frank was strict and even sometimes unaware of her son's lack of happiness, it couldn't be said that she didn't love him. She did. She tried her best to keep him alive in her womb, and she would love him until the very last of her days. “Have you been eating well? What about school?”

“ _College_.” Eugene silently corrected her. “Yes, I'm eating well. And I've passed another year, so that's... good.”

“It's really good.” she smiled and caressed his cheek.

“Mother.” Eugene whined a little bit, tilting his head away from her touch. He was no longer a little boy. He was no longer scared, insecure (not _as_ much) or useless. He didn't need his mother to become a shield to protect him. He came back as a man with a purpose. As a man with a life and a direction. As a man whose life was now better because of the one standing by his side. Eugene turned his head and looked at Merriell, briefly: “This is Merriell.”

And now it's when things would become strange.

Or so he thought.

Mary Frank observed Merriell very carefully. She never got to forget those big eyes and that little smirk. The man was very different and at the very same time very similar to the little boy she found in that hut in the middle of the bayou more than twenty-three years ago. She felt surrpised. Maybe she expected him to be that little boy, still. Maybe she expected him to be no threat for Eugene. Just a little boy that needed to be cuddled and fed as she did with him.

The woman parted her lips and then closed them, clearly not finding the words to say. This was a man. A man that was probably scarred by the war so badly that her son had to make sure he could keep going. And while the purpose of saving someone's soul seemed to be noble and Eugene's duty a few years ago, now she worried it was taking too long. She missed her son and the only reason why she didn't have him with her was standing in front of him.

She felt _conflicted_.

But a smile stretched over her thin lips and finally reacted after some seconds of a tense silence. She extended her hand: “It's been a very long time.”

When their hands touched, Mary Frank couldn't help but think that those were rough. Calloused. This was not only a boy for sure. This was a man that killed to survive.

“I'm honored to be here.” Merriell said.

Was he really? Eugene didn't think he was. But the veteran was trying his best to sound... proper. He was observing them with intrusive eyes until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

Eugene turned his head and found his father's smile. A smile that was tender and understanding. A smile that came with knowing a little more about this situation than his mother did. It was like his father knew right away, Eugene didn't have to explain anything for him to know exactly the realtionship between him and Merriell. _So it's him, right?_

Eugene felt like he was going to cry. He shook his father's hand with both of his; there was far too much gratitude in that contact. Edward told him once that he loved him. He was his son and his love was unconditional. And Eugene didn't have to feel like that was extraordinary. He never did anything wrong in his father's eyes.

*** * ***

It was during lunch when Merriell got to see how different life here was.

And it was not because the food was any better. Far more expensive. More refined. But it was not that. Nor the fact that he kept his elbows glued to his sides and looked at Eugene through the corner of his eyes to know which knife he was supposed to use for different meals (turns out it's not really one for all).

They were _served_ their meal.

Eugene spoke about Rose a couple of times before but now that he saw her, he understood plenty.

He couldn't help but think about Mamaw because they couldn't be any more _different_. Back in New Orleans, no one would ever think about disrespecting the great Madame Mercier. She had a fame while it could be described, funny enough, as infamous. No one would ever dare to go against her wish. Mamaw created the rules and told people what to do. It was impossible to ignore the dominant aura around her. She always knew better and if you wanted to accomplish something, you only had to follow her advice.

He couldn't imagine Mamaw following anyone's orders.

And while she was the one to always put the meal right under their noses (now Lou did that because she couldn't stand for so long), it was not because she was serving them. Mamaw has always been very possessive because everything that was inside of her house was _hers_. And maybe that was, in the end, the sense of accomplishment after working in house where _nothing_ was hers for far too many years.

Now that he looked at Rose and how she returned back to the kitchen, it was clear that she was not going to have lunch with them. Mamaw would have stayed. Reach out to fix Eugene's clothes and probably scold Merriell and rush him to start eating already.

Their positions in the house were so _different_.

Rose looked _restrainted_. Before she left the dinning room, she extended her hand towards Eugene, only to curl her fingers and rest it over the back of the chair instead of leaving it over the boy's shoulder. A familiarity that has been there from the very beginning. She probably saw him grow up. Maybe she even raised him at some point and soothed him if he fell or got sick when his mother was not around. But she was still not his mother and she was still someone that only worked at their house.

A familiarity that was and wasn't. She only dared to touch him and smile at him when he asked how she was doing, that he heard she had a little accident the last time he called. She smiled and she spoke with a sweet voice. She was fond of him, no one could deny that. And no one kept her from talking to him or chastised Eugene as soon as she walked back to the kitchen.

The Sledges were not cruel to Rose. But their relationship was far from being equal.

Eugene caught Merriell looking at her and he understood what he was thinking. And how uncomfortable that probably made him.

As soon as the cajun landed his eyes on him, he barely smiled.

“So, Merriell.” Mary Frank began, eventually. “What do you do for a living?”

The veteran blinked and finally looked at her. “I work at a sawmill.”

“Do you?” she seemed to be wary of him. She was constantly trying to find out if this was still the same person she saw as a child. The aura around him, that need to be loved and be taken care of, seemed to still be there, lingering. But while that in a child could be endearing and soft, in a man was... far too intimate when the one supposed to look after him was also a man. Their relationship could surely be _mistaken_.

She felt the need to convince Eugene to come back. He did plenty for this already, didn't he?

“Yes.” Merriell simply answered.

Eugene played a bit with his fork and interrupted them: “I'm trying to convince Merriell to become a carpenter. He's very good with... those things.”

In any other situation, Merriell would have made jokes about being good with _woodwork_ while ignoring the suggestion. Now, he only shrugged.

Eugene hated how they were and _weren't_ themselves.

“You two live together still?” the mother insisted a little bit.

Merriell stayed silent and Eugene nodded.

“We... split bills and everything. Easier like that.”

“Do you need us to send you more money?”

“ _No_.” it was shameful enough.

“I'm sure Merriell won't want to have a roommate for much longer. He might want to have some privacy in the future.” she was assuming far too much.

The fact his mother was implying that Merriell might want privacy when all the other boy did was chase Eugene around the house to be with him sounded ridiculous and _infuriating_.

The cajun scratched the back of his neck and smiled a little bit: “Privacy? We ain't got no privacy in our house. My Lulu visits us a lot.” Often unannounced. Eugene practically begged her to knock at the door, at least. He did ever since they started having sex. She truly didn't need to see that. She never even saw them kissing, so far.

“Oh, _Lulu_.” Mary Frank raised her eyebrows. She found the name a little _tasteless_.

“ _Louise_ , remember? The picture Mam— Madame Mercier sent us?” Eugene still kept that picture. “His cousin.”

The mother raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Right. The girl. Yes, I remember her.” But surely she didn't look... similar enough to be blood related. She kept her judgment for herself... but not for long. “I mean, handsome man like you must have plenty of girls after him, Merriell.”

“I wouldn't say that much.” funny enough, he was not as desperate to get attention as he did before the war. He had Eugene. He didn't want _anyone_ else.

Eugene licked his lips and his father looked at him. He smiled with some compassion and trying to understand how it would truly feel to have to hide such joy.

“But you might want to have a wife in the future. A family.” and her son would have to come back home. The burden of her debt with the mambo would be taken off his shoulders.

“Maybe those were my plans before the war,” he even began to fix the little house Mamaw gave him with the idea of perhaps living with someone, there. But he already had a family. He didn't need to start one brand new. He had love, as well. What else could he ask for other than staying alive plenty of years to see the ones he loved grow old as he did with them? “Not anymore.”

“A war can't change someone _that_ much.” she smiled, clearly not understanding what she was talking about. But what did she know about war other than that people died?

Merriell said nothing. Neither did Eugene or Edward.

Mary Frank felt the temptation to keep talking, so she gave in: “I keep telling Eugene to go out, find a nice girl. But he won't pay attention to me! He shouldn't have any trouble finding someone, handsome and clever as he is. I'm only worried that might only give him another reason to stay away from us.” but she could easily convince her future daughter in law to move to Mobile. If not, she would have to tell her son that she didn't like his rebellious and future wife. And he would have to listen to her. After all, _she was his mother_.

“I like New Orleans and I'm studying there, mother.” and when he finishes his degree, he would have to find another excuse to stay. He was sure that before they left, she would tell him that Merriell looked fine to her and that he should be done with this.

His mother was capable of that: force him to do something and only stop him when she no longer liked the idea, not caring if he grew fond of the situation. Her rules. Her own idea of happiness, not Eugene's. Authority not understanding, unlike his father.

“Let the boy decide what's best for him, Mary Frank.” Edward finally interrupted, reaching out to squeeze Eugene's shoulder. The redhead smiled with a little hope. “Being in the company of a good friend is never a waste of time.”

“It's not when you are a teenager! But Eugene is about to turn twenty-three and even if boys need more time to grow up, _it's about time_.”

It surely sounded like Mary Frank was willing to keep him from ever taking that train back to New Orleans.

It was _suffocating_ to be under her control once again.

*** * ***

“Your Mama is quite a somethin', huh?” Merriell said as soon as Eugene closed the door of the guest room, looking exhausted.

“Kiss me. I need to know that you still love me.” the younger man sighed, stepping forward. He wrapped his arms around Merriell's shoulders, feeling his smile and amusement against his own mouth when he kissed him. Once, twice... Three times and then another. Four. He felt like he owed him a thousand more only for being around her.

“She ain't too bad, Sledgehammer.” that nickname was perhaps more acceptable than any other pet names that he called him. No _cher_ , no _boo_ , no _darling_. Eugene wanted to go back _home_. “Takes far worse than that to offend me.” he looked around and grinned a little cheeky. “I mean, I got myself a very nice room with a very comfy mattress. And the food is pretty good. She can call me anythin' that she wants.”

“She better _not_.” Eugene huffed, dragging his smooth nails over Merriell's scalp. The veteran practically purred against his jaw. “I noticed... how you looked at Rose.” he finally commented, trying to sound a little casual.

“I'm surprised that my Mamaw helped your mother at all, boy. She wouldn't approve _this_.” the things she had to do to save a kid's soul.

“I know.” he quickly nodded. The woman left very clear how disconnected Eugene was from the reality when he first spoke to her.

“She seems to be fond of you.”

“I hope so. I'm fond of her, too.”

“But how couldn't she?” Merriell's voice became sweet and his accent a little heavier. His hands framed Eugene's face, with his thumbs over his smooth cheeks. “You are the loveliest boy there is in this town, for sure.”

Eugene smiled wide enough to make his small teeth press against his lower lip. He was such a flatterer. “Not worried about this town. It's New Orleans where I want to be.” he confessed. “It's where my soul longs to be. Tangled to yours.”

It was Merriell who kissed him now.

Ah, he truly wouldn't survive separation, would he? His soul knew what he wanted and what he needed. He better fight his mother with everything that he has when the time comes.

And they kissed for what seemed to be such a short period of time. They didn't even get to sit down over the bed or to lean against the wall. But they were already being interrupted when his mother called his name.

“ _What_?!” Eugene answered, loud enough to make sure she would hear him with the door closed.

Merriell continued to kiss his jaw and his cheek, with his arms tight around his waist.

“Sid is here!” the only reason why his mother didn't come to the second floor to knock at the door was because he was probably harassing Sid with questions about the wedding. There's little his mother liked mother than the sacred union of marriage.

“Oh, fuck _no_.” Merriell groaned. Seriously? They barely arrived a few hours ago. There was no need to show up so soon.

Eugene smiled a bit, amused by his reaction. “It won't be so bad. He apologized and said that he didn't care.”

“It did sound like he cared an awful lot.” Merriell frowned.

“He missed me. Sid has always been rather childish. He hoped that would make me come back.” Eugene explained, stepping back.

“Well, he sure fuckin' failed.” it goes without saying that he didn't want to see the other boy considering the very last thing Merriell said to Sid was: _Do it, you fuckin' bastard, I swear to God I'll bite your fingers off_ when he tried to touch Eugene.

“I forgave him.”

“You shouldn't have. Those who are willin' to say that shit might as well try to use the same card, sooner or later.”

“Redemption. Ever heard of it?” Eugene patted Merriell's shoulder before he fully released himself from his embrace and walked out of the guest room.

Merriell rolled his eyes and followed him.

As he expected, Eugene found Sid and Mary dealing with his mother's questions that were _far too many_.

“Hey.” he allowed them to notice their presence with a little smile and briefly waving.

“Eugene!” the blond boy quickly smiled as he saw his friend. This time Merriell couldn't tell him to back off and pulled the boy into his arms in a very tight hug. Eugene could tell without even taking a proper look at his soul that he has been trying to achieve atonement after all the foolish things he did. At least he listened to him. That was _something_. “Oh, missed you, bastard.” he breathed, not loud enough for Mary Frank to hear.

Not that she wanted to. Now that Sid was clearly not in the conversation, she was trying to obtain details about the wedding gown.

Merriell crossed his arms and stared at those two, barely blinking and counting the seconds until Sid would let Eugene go. He even felt tempted to grab him by the shirt and _pull_.

When finally stepped back, he still held Eugene by the arms, smiling at him and perhaps wanting some validation. For him to notice that he had been trying to do things properly and follow his advice. Eugene smiled still needing to see a little more. But he didn't have that shivering aura around him anymore.

A proper _beginning_.

Sid finally turned his head and smiled at Merriell. The cajun did not return the gesture. Still, the boy decided to extend his hand towards him. Merriell only looked at it and didn't shake it until Eugene nudged him with his elbow.

“It's nice to see you too, Shelton.”

“ _Sure_.” now he understood what Eugene meant that life in Mobile was a play. Now Phillips was something like the good guy once again. The former best friend. Absolutely hating it, so far.

“Mary and I were heading to the beach. Would you want to come with us?” he asked.

 _No_ , Merriell wanted to answer, _we were about to start making out before you arrived. Leave. Don't come back_.

“Sure.” Eugene nodded.

*** * ***

Merriell was _stressed_.

The boy was going to get sunburnt and then he won't be able to try to soothe his skin because they were at his parents' house and they were _just friends_. He squinted and tried to keep his eyes on Eugene and Mary as they both turned around when a big waves approached the shore and kept chatting.

Because they decided to go swimming and Eugene absolutely left him behind with Sid. And the kid was trying to speak to him and Merriell was _still_ hating the whole experience.

“You know? She's the prettiest girl in Mobile. We were all in love with her at some point.” Sid's voice was full of pride and even a little arrogance. “Even Eugene.”

Surely, in the same way Eugene liked baseball when he was little. He only copied Sid to be able to become his friend, far too scared even when he was a child to show anything truthful about himself.

Here's the thing: the girl was beautiful. Exceptionally beautiful, in fact. But he would be damned if he ever flattered anything or anyone (that wasn't his boy) related to Sid Phillips. So he shrugged and said: “I guess. If that's your type.”

Sid continued to smile a little bit and pressed his lips, nodding. It wouldn't be easy to make amends with him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying. “Before leaving New Orleans, Eugene and I talked.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

“And I... Look. I don't have any problem with _it_.” he couldn't just say words out loud. “I only wanted my friend back.”

“So he said.”

“I was jealous.”

“Tough luck.”

“I'm trying to talk to you, it would be helpful if you paid attention to what I'm saying.”

“I'm gonna pass on that one, thanks.”

Sid furrowed his nose, clearly displeased. Then he whispered: “I can't believe he likes you. You are a real asshole.”

“I guess this is your first time talking with a _charmin' bastard_ , Phillips.”

“Did you leave the charming part back home?”

Merriell snorted: “The charm only comes out behind closed doors.”

Thankfully, Eugene and Mary were more civil than those two would ever dream to be.

“And he came back as a whole different man, Eugene!” the smile on her lips was so sweet and so hopeful. “I have no idea what you told him, but I am so grateful that you spoke with him. He truly was... I don't really know what... or how war hurt him. But I don't think... He came back _complete_ , if that makes any sense.” Mary sighed. It was so complicated into words the suffering and the misery those war boys were put through.

“I only told him to be sincere, Mary.” Eugene shook his head, refusing to take any sort of credit for Sid's change. It was his and his alone.

“He was. For sure he was. He told me _everything_.”

“Did he tell you about...” he didn't know how to bring it up.

“The girls?” Eugene nodded a little. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

“And you forgave him? Just like that?”

“Not just like that. At first I was furious.” Mary denied. She was beautiful, sweet, kind and clever. Eugene was not attracted to women, but he could tell that Sid has been a complete idiot to ever try to mess around with others when he had such a wonderful woman wanting to become his wife. “But I love him. And he cried when he told me. And not how men cry so you will pity them and forgive them everything.” she saw and met that kind of men before. Not interested. “He cried with frustration, unable to tell why he did so. And then he promised he would be good and faithful until the very end. Here's the thing: there are boys willing to marry you while promising you way less than that.”

“I guess.” he didn't know much about those boys. Neither he wanted to, really.

“You don't think I should have forgiven him, right?” she smiled a little bit.

Eugene forgave Sid when others wouldn't have, as well. So he could understand her. For better or for worse, they were fond of that... idiotic boy. The redhead denied: “What you decide to forgive is up to you, Mary.”

The girl smiled and nodded. Then her expression turned a little bit cheeky: “Also, I have something other girls can't give him.”

Eugene, a complete stranger to _any_ feminine scheme, frowned a little bit. “What does that mean?”

Mary shrugged a little bit and suddently said: “Look at me. I'm getting all wrinkly! This is enough water for me!”

And just like that, she left him behind, frowning and still trying to figure out what she had that other girls _didn't_. So focused he was on that mystery that he barely paid attention when he heard the splashing noises that were coming his way or when Merriell tackled him.

At least he kissed him when they were under the water.

*** * ***

“I just don't get it.” Eugene confessed, leaning against wall. Merriell was brushing his teeth and shrugging a little bit. “I mean. What can _she_ give him?” he spent the whole dinner thinking and thinking. Thankfully, that kept him from listening to his mother or anything she had to say about the two of them. Ah, she could be truly abrasive when she wanted to.

But at least the first day was about to be over. Three more to go.

“ _Herhussy_.” Merriell answered with his mouth full of toothpaste and the toothbrush swaying over his lower lip.

“What was that?”

The boy spat on the sink and repeated: “Her pussy.”

The redhead, of course, didn't quite expect that answer. He raised his eyebrows and blinked, quite slowly, needing some darkness to process what Merriell just said under his mother's roof. He had no idea, did he? She could hear everything. She would know. You were supposed to leave your profanities at the door if you ever visited the Sledges.

“Excuse you?”

“Her p—” he tried to repeat, looking amused by Eugene's reaction.

“Stop yourself right there, Shelton.” he interrupted him right away. “Speak with some respect, that's a lady you are talking about.”

“Oh, my bad.” he grinned.

Eugene huffed and shook his head, crossing his arms. How foolish he has been to think Merriell would be able to behave while being at his parents' house. Oh, well. Maybe he wanted him to still be this incorrigible boy instead of the quiet one he became in front of Mary Frank. “Also, last time I checked most girls have one of those.”

“You _checked_?” Merriell laughed.

Eugene furrowed his nose and blushed a little bit. “Shut up.”

“I mean. Then maybe it's not that. Maybe she shoved a finger up his a—”

“ _Stop_!”

“You shouldn't be scandalized about that. It's somethin' you can _relate_ to.”

Eugene, absolutely done with him saying such crude things, threw a towel at his face.

Merriell laughed: “Feisty!”

The redhead was willing to fight him, right there, right in the bathroom for daring to mention such things with his mother being around all the time. And that's the very same reason why he didn't do it: because his mother showed up. She knocked at the open door of the bathroom and Eugene quickly turned, trying to look calm and perfectly normal. Like that mess of a conversation never happened.

“Yes?”

“Eugene, your father and I are going to bed. Your brother told us he would arrive tomorrow morning.” Ah, so he was finally going to see Eddie. With some luck, he would be able to find out what has been bothering him and what he did to upset him so much. “Don't stay up for too long, alright?” she caressed his cheek and Eugene felt like he was _twelve_ once again.

“Yes, mother.” he nodded, feeling the temptation to step away.

Funny how he sometimes craved his mother's touch and how other times it was something utterly shameful.

Mary Frank patted his cheek and then turned to look at the older boy: “Goodnight, Merriell.”

“G'night, ma'am.”

And that interaction almost sounded _normal_.

As soon as the woman left, Merriell approached him and grinned: “You hear your Mama, boy. Straight to bed.”

Eugene kicked him in the ass as soon as he walked out of the bathroom.

*** * ***

“Oh, Lord what's that!” Mary Frank gasped in the middle of the night. The woman blinked without seeing anything, the inside of their room was far too dark to even see what was at the end of their bed. She heard it again and turned around on the bed, shaking her husband. “Edward. Edward, do you hear _that_?”

The man let out a small sigh of exhaustion and perhaps he was about to say something soothing so she would simply go back to bed. Ever since they married, Mary Frank always seemed to have a hard time at finding peace within herself. She married a deeply insecure woman that was raised with barely any sort of affection and plenty of criticism.

But that was before he heard it himself.

Wailing noises. Long stretched moans and whimpers.

“Stay here.” he said as he got out of bed, wearing his dressing gown and tying it around his waist before he opened the door.

Eugene stood in front of the guest room, with a hand over the door. His son looked a little worried. The truth was that sometimes Merriell had nightmares. Those weren't as bad as when he got sick, but still very disturbing. After they had sex, Eugene decided it was a good idea to sleep together, and that actually helped the veteran. If he woke up startled, Eugene comforted him as he held him and kissed his forehead; _you are home with me. You are safe_ , he said. If he continued to whimper and tremble, he would rub his back and cuddle him until he would calm down. Right now, he felt conflicted. He didn't want Merriell to deal with the shame of knowing that he woke them up (he even said that if he had one of those while being in there he would leave), but Eugene was unable to just leave him be until he would calm down all by himself.

“It's alright. You can go back to bed.” he finally said as he opened the door and the whimpers became a little louder.

“Are you sure? I can help.” Edward offered.

“Yeah, I've got this.” he smiled, briefly, before he closed the door after him.

Mary Frank rested her hand on her husband's arm and looked a little bit displeased and concerned. “You think this will happen every night?”

“I guess time will tell. Let's go back to bed.” he wrapped his arm around her and also closed the door.

Mary Frank didn't think this was _right_. Nor she ever thought this is what healing the young Merry would have implied. Two boys, in the middle of the night, inside of a closed bedroom? She didn't think that was normal. Or proper. That intimacy and closeness between those two was slowly becoming too much for her and that was the final evidence that she needed. She had to step in this overwhelming friendship.

Edward, on the other hand, was grateful that it was not his son the one being tormented by past memories, but also felt glad that both boys had each other to soothe their worst pains and insecurities.


	26. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eugene licked his lips and continued: “We are very happy.” he wanted him to know. “We... It's like having a family. I don't feel alone. I don't feel isolated. I don't feel like I am hiding.” that little house in the middle of the bayou protected them and he was so grateful that they could live there, away from judgment or vicious gossiping. Something here in Mobile, he would never have no matter how big the estate was, they would always have neighbors. “I never thought I would be this lucky. I truly feel blessed.”
> 
> OR
> 
> Sometimes you have to bang your bf to remind yourself you are in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late once again. Oooops!!!

Edward liked to wake up early in the morning, before Rose or Tee arrived. During summer, it was the only bearable moment in which he could sit down on the porch and enjoy a cigarette without soaking his shirt with sweat. Years ago, when the boys were still little, he would drive to their favourite bakery store and buy their breakfast, so Eddie and Eugene could enjoy the sweet and freshly baked bread with some butter as soon as they would wake up. Now both of them were young men and living on their own. Edward missed those times, the house felt unusually quiet without them messing around. Without Eddie heading upstairs and then back downstairs because he probably forgot what he wanted to do. Or Eugene playing with Deacon around the garden.

What wouldn't he give to go back in time!

Eddie became extremely sour when Eugene left. It was clear to him that his youngest felt betrayed by his brother. That he assumed that taking care of someone else was far more important than his own family, even if he never really got to know the details on why his brother truly left. Edward understood that was part of Eugene's path. That going to Louisana would shape him as a person. He would be able to see other realities and decide what he wanted to do for himself. Edward could see that his wife always put a heavy burden on the eldest, but little he could do through the years to make her understand that the only way to help your children to persue happiness was to set them free.

Then Eugene told them that he was studying to become a doctor and Edward felt a swell of pride. That only pushed Eddie to turn his sadness and confusion into anger and jealousy. Before they knew it, he became quiet or sarcastic when both parents spoke about their eldest son who was nothing but a ghost trapped within the walls of that old house.

Edward loved his sons equally. There were no buts or conditions that would follow that statement, and yet he could see clear as day that Eddie always assumed they had a predilection for Eugene. Edward was an optimistic man, he hoped that as soon as the boy would arrive to the house, both brothers would be able to talk and sort this situation that had no reason to exist anymore.

The door of the house opened and a very tired Eugene stepped out. He smiled when he saw his father, looking pleased even if he could use a few more hours of rest. “Good morning.” he said before he sat down on the rocking chair next to his.

Edward squeezed his son's knee, fondly. “Good morning.”

Eugene got his pipe out of his pajama pocket and began to clean it and get it ready to smoke by his father's side.

“I didn't know you smoked.” Edward commented with a small smile on his lips. When Eugene left their house, he was barely a boy. Now everything was different. That small detail made it quite obvious.

“I think we are picking each other's habits.” he couldn't possibly tell him that started to smoke to get Merriell's eyes on his lips, could he? “Or he would if he would come to church with me.” he joked a little bit with a small smile.

Edward snorted and nodded. After a few seconds of silence and the first puff of smoke came out of Eugene's mouth, he asked: “How is he?”

Eugene nodded. “Better. Much better. He's sleeping now.” It took a little bit to calm him down and convince Merriell that no one else other than Eugene heard him. “But don't comment on it. He feels self-conscious. And _please_ , tell mother to not speak about either. Merriell would rather leave than deal with the shame of knowing that you two are aware of what happened.”

“Understandable.” he agreed. “We won't say anything about it, don't worry.”

Eugene raised one leg and pressed the heel of his right foot over the edge of the seat and rocked himself back and forward with the toes of his left foot.

“I felt relieved, last night.” Edward confessed. “That could had been you.” It could had been Eugene the one twisting and whimpering, trying to escape from his own mind. “I'm not saying that I'm happy that's him who's suffering. But I know that boy is in good hands as long as you are with him. You have the dedication of a doctor already, Eugene.”

“I learned from the best.” Eugene whispered with a tender smile on his lips. The man looked at his son and smiled back, caressing his red hair with adoration and devotion that could only come from a loving parent. And because his touch was so sweet and Eugene always felt so protected and so safe with his father, he dared to add: “He's very _special_ to me.”

There was so much meaning in that small word. Special, unique, worth _everything_. Eugene only said it out loud because he knew that no judgment would come from his father's part. And because he also knew that he wouldn't tell his mother, as he didn't when he confessed how different he truly was. And mostly because he would _understand_.

Edward smiled: “I know.”

Eugene licked his lips and continued: “We are very happy.” he wanted him to know. “We... It's like having a family. I don't feel alone. I don't feel isolated. I don't feel like I am hiding.” that little house in the middle of the bayou protected them and he was so grateful that they could live there, away from judgment or vicious gossiping. Something here in Mobile, he would _never_ have no matter how big the estate was, they would always have neighbors. “I never thought I would be this lucky. I truly feel _blessed_.”

“Then there's no chance you might ever live with us again, right?” he couldn't help but ask, his smile a little sad. He missed those times, those that were now lost and wouldn't return.

Eugene pressed his lips together in an apologetic way. “I will visit and call more often.” he barely did. He was a selfish boy, he felt so happy in New Orleans that sometimes he forgot about Mobile. About those he left behind. But now that Sid and his father knew, maybe it would be a little easier. Maybe he wouldn't feel trapped by the boy he used to be. “I promise.”

“Please, we miss you terribly, Eugene.”

Eugene nodded enthusiastically. “I will. I swear.” now let's see if he thinks about them as soon as he gets back home. Eugene hated to think that things would be different if he would have the guarantee that he would only speak with his father. The redhead scratched the bridge of his nose and couldn't help himself. He bit his lower lip, trying to act like he didn't care when he asked: “Do you like Merriell so far...?”

Of course Eugene seeked approval from his father.

Edward nodded sooner than Eugene even expected him too. “He looks like a sensible man.” Oh, he absolutely wasn't. “A little contained, though.” Now that was an accurate observation. “I don't feel like I know him very well, yet. But I can't possibly dislike him when you _love_ him so much, can I?” it was his father who used the word, not Eugene. The boy's cheeks became all red and raised his eyebrows, surprised. Edward blinked and tilted his head quite confused. “I was not supposed to say that?”

“Ah... No! No, it's just... It's fine.” he looked around and swallowed. “It's... A little surprising. It's fine. It's not like you are wrong. I only like to be a little more...”

“ _Careful_?”

“Yes! I try to be more _careful_ when it's not only the two of us —Merriell and I.”

“Oh, okay.” his father nodded and smiled, keeping his lips closed. He could show sympathy and accept his son as he was, for there was nothing that shouldn't be loved about him. But Edward didn't know how different it was to experience love in a way that it was not the _traditional_. He never had to put himself in that position before. “I'll learn.” he promised.

“No, no. It's fine. It's alright. It's... It's _great_.” Eugene couldn't help but feel hopeful. With some luck, this visit would end up bringing him some happiness. Now, matters that are way less pleasing and just as delicate. “So... Mother told me that Eddie is coming today.”

“He is.”

“What... do you think I should do? Because I don't really understand what happened.” Eugene sighed.

“It's very simple. Your brother was awfully sad when you left. And when he saw you wouldn't be back for a very long time, he felt betrayed. Didn't help that we were so happy when you told us that you wanted to become a doctor. Maybe we are the ones to blame and not you, Eugene.”

“Either way,” Eugene shook his head. It didn't matter who had the fault. The consequences were the very same. “I would like to speak to him. It was not my intention to make him feel like he had to compete against me. God knows it's not that.” before Eugene left, he was lost as he could be. Miserable, as well, as he was rejected by the Marines so many times. Perhaps Eddie felt like his older brother raised no challenge, but now that he was doing things for himself...

He would speak to him.

*** * ***

It would be way easier if Eddie wasn't clearly ignoring him.

He arrived after breakfast. Thankfully, no one said anything about what happened last night even if his mother looked at Merriell in a bizarre way. The cajun was tense and Eugene felt like he was about to gasp for air at any moment while he was at the table. Thinking he would get a bit of break with his little brother's arrival, it only made it _worse_.

Eddie didn't shake Merriell's hand and even stepped back when Eugene tried to hug him. The rejection was so obvious that Mary Frank commented on the fact that emancipation was destroying his manners. Eugene didn't know where his brother was living at the moment. Neither he knew what Eddie decided to study. He became a complete stranger and he didn't look like the worried boy he once left at the station. He continued to be the quiet boy that refused to speak back to him a couple of Christmas ago. But now, there was far more anger in him. Eugene could see distaste and resentment in his soul. Even judgment. It made him feel uncomfortable and disturbed.

But he was still his little brother, so he knocked at his door and entered inside, catching him unpacking his suitcase. Eddie looked at him, cold and distant, and continued to focus on his task.

“Hey.” Eugene smiled a little bit before he closed the door. “You need any help?”

“ _No_.”

“Alright.” he nodded and decided to not take any of this personally. His brother was hurt and it was his obligation, as the eldest, to sort this out. “We need to catch up, don't you think? I barely know anything about what you are doing. I don't think my letters ever made it.” he lied. Eugene knew that Eddie returned his letters without opening them.

“No, I don't think so.”

Eugene sat at the end of the bed and licked his lips. He tried to smile again. Complicated, but not impossible: “I'd like to know what are you studying, if you are with someone... Normal things.”

Eddie finally frowned and stopped for a second, looking at Eugene like sitting on his bed and speaking to him was almost offensive: “Shouldn't you be with your _friend_?”

He didn't like the way he said that. It was... twisted and cruel. _Accusative_ , almost.

“He's outside with our father.” Eugene explained as calm as possible. “Why?” he decided to give him the benefit of doubt.

“I'm not like our mother, Eugene. I know how life outside of this house is.”

“I don't know what you are trying to say.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorted. “I bet you have no idea.”

“I'd like to know why you are so angry at me so I can apologize, Eddie.” he wouldn't mind turning the other cheek. This was his little brother. His family; his blood. Someone he was meant to look after. “And move on.”

“I don't want you to apologize, I want you to leave me alone.” he replied as he resumed unpacking his suitcase.

“That doesn't make any sense, Eddie.” Eugene sighed. “Look. I know you didn't understand why I had to leave, b—”

“Oh, I _know_.” Eddie interrupted him. “And I don't give a damn about...” he gestured towards him with little consideration. “whatever that you do. I'm not interested and if you thought that wait for a soldier _like a woman_ instead of going to war was something honorable it's on you, not me.”

Eugene raised his chin a little bit. _Don't lose your temper_. “It's funny because I remember you begging me not to go.”

“I was a child.”

“You are not much older.”

“Old enough to see through your bullshit, Eugene.” he dropped his shirts over the suitcase and stood in front of the eldest. “So don't try to talk to me. I don't have anything to speak with you.”

“I don't understand why you are acting like this, Eddie.” Eugene crossed his arms and refused to stand up. He would not confront his brother. He won't even raise his voice when it was clear that Eddie was aching for an argument. “But I think you should know that I'll always care about you. You are my brother and I love you.”

“Do you say that often to other men, Eugene? That you _love_ them?” there was something rotten behind his eyes. “It's fucking shameful you brought him to our house. Do you think I buy that bullshit of being being... what? Your charity case?” Merriell said they would call him that. “ _This_ ” he gestured at him. “is fucking disgusting. I hope you are aware of that.”

It was the second time that word — _love_ — was used by a member of his family that day. How could such wonderful feeling make him feel like a criminal when pronounced by others? Now Eugene did stand up. He tensed his jaw and swallowed his anger. Eddie didn't have the power to offend him or hurt him if he didn't let him. He made amends with himself. He had nothing to feel ashamed of, he had nothing he had to regret. Did that mean he had to confess like a sinner and put himself in the hands of those who wanted to punish him like a martyr? _No_. He was a free being in control of himself and with the only duty to protect himself whenever he needed to.

Eugene exhaled and he let the anger go, it would only become heavier and heavier each time. “I see your opinion about me changed quite drastically while I was away. I wish you would have spoken to me instead of jumping into conclusions, Eddie.”

“I am not an idiot, Eugene.” and the bitterness in his voice was far from normal. He has been living in his shadow for far too long. Now he wanted to _burn_ him in his purpose to become light. “The only good thing about this is that I won't have anything to prove to mom and dad when you fall from their pedestal. Who would ever want an _invert_ as their own son?”

Eugene felt the temptation to say that his father was aware. But Eddie would bring up their mother and Eugene would lose. Once again, he had _nothing_ to tell him when his reaction would be _disgusting_ at best. “I wish you could have seen your own worth instead of obsessing with my very few accomplishments, Eddie.” then he stepped aside and walked towards the door. “Feel free to talk to me if you want to.” _Or not_. Right now, Eugene didn't care much if Eddie ended up choking in his own frustration. He would regret later. _Probably_.

He closed the door after him and stood there for a few seconds. _Well_. There might be a few things that will make his visit a little more displeasing than desired. Now he had to stay calm. He refused to feel scared in this house. He already lived far too many hours of fear and despair within those walls.

Eugene walked down the corridor and in his way towards the stairs, he saw that Merriell was coming to the second floor. He wanted some comfort. He wanted to touch his hand and kiss his lips and hear him say that things would be okay.

As soon as the veteran saw him, he smiled and touched his waist lightly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Eugene smiled back, briefly. “Can we talk for a moment?”

Pessimistic as usual, Merriell frowned and lowered his voice: “Somethin' happened? They heard me last night, right? I knew it. Your Mama wouldn't stop looking at me.”

“It just happened. Come with me.” he said before he took Merriell back to his bedroom.

When he locked the door, Merriell couldn't help but being himself and smirked: “Is this a trick to smooch me, Sledgehammer?”

“Yes and no.” he did want a kiss. A few. So he pressed his lips against Merriell's a couple of times before the older boy wrapped his arms around him and smiled against his mouth. “But also,” it was a little complicated to keep talking when Merriell wanted more and more of those. “I spoke with my brother.”

“How did it go?” Merriell decided to move towards his neck as Eugene was clearly trying to explain him something.

“Terrible. He called me an _invert_.” he tried to say it quickly, _dully_ , like it could minimize the impact and the harm.

Merriell became tense and slowly moved his head back to look at him. Eugene said nothing and only shrugged one shoulder after he briefly denied. Knowing him far too well by now, Eugene could force him to sit back down once again before he could storm out of the room. “ _No_.”

“What the fuc—” there was rage and frustration in Merriell's voice. It almost matched Eddie's for complete different reasons.

“ _Shhh_.” Eugene cupped his face. “Look at me.” he asked and the veteran obeyed. “I'm not mad.” he was hurt for sure. But there were things he could fix and others that he simply couldn't. Eddie would have to change his mind all by himself. Little could Eugene do about his opinions. “And you shouldn't be either. I'm just telling you because we might need to be a little bit... _careful_.” he hated that, but he feared that his brother would speak with his mother about them. There was doubt in Mary Frank's eyes already. She didn't like how close they were and the last thing she needed was a possible reason why. “Not that I think we've been obvious.” but Eddie could clearly see something that his mother was starting to suspect. “But maybe I can't hide how much I love you. There must be plenty of it inside of me.” Eugene joked a little bit to Merriell would calm down and smile.

He furrowed his nose and snorted, lowly. “Then make some room so I'll fit back inside.”

“You are _gross_.” he pushed him back, grinning.

Merriell brushed his hair and sighed. “I don't think I like your brother.”

“He used to be a good boy. He must feel a little lost and confused.”

“Not an excuse, to my eyes.”

“Maybe not, but he is my little brother. I can't shut him out just like that. He might need me someday.”

“After callin' you an invert? I'm bettin' my money that he won't want to talk to you much.”

“Merriell...” Eugene sighed tiredly. The situation was complicated enough for him to remind him that it would probably get worse and worse until brothers would become strangers.

“Right. Sorry.” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just think he's an asshole.”

“First Sid, now my brother... You don't like anyone related to me, do you?” he pinched his side.

Merriell grinned and slapped his hand away. “Your father is sweet.”

“You think so?” Eugene bit his lower lip, failing at making his smile smaller.

“Yeah. You got it all from him, cher.” the cajun caressed his shoulder, massaging his flesh with his thumb, getting closer once again.

“He likes you. He said that he does because I'm clearly in love with you.” they kissed tenderly. “And that I wouldn't pick the wrong person.” Not after waiting for so long. Not after working so hard on their happiness. “And it's _clear_ that you are good to me.” another kiss, this time a little longer.

“He knows his boy is wise.” he knew that too. “Even if he's gettin' a little corny lately.” Eugene was saying that he loved him more than ever. Each time they were alone, in fact.

“I want you to know while we are going through Hell.” and maybe against adversity, he loved him even more. Or at least, he loved him louder while being forced to stay quiet.

“Don't worry about it. I know how to act while bein' around the enemy.”

“Teach me, then.”

*** * ***

Mary Frank was _unbearable_ that afternoon.

She wouldn't leave him alone at any moment. But not only that, she was trying to keep him away from Merriell. Eugene was starting to find the situation frustrating enough to answer his mother with dry responses or merely looking at her, knowing that she truly didn't want any other thing that wasn't the boys not being in the same room for more than ten minutes. Or merely testing that her son was still under her control and that he would do whatever she would ask of him.

Eugene was no longer the same scared and nervous boy that was willing to do anything that she said. He was not going to give her the satisfaction of feeling that she was still the one that decided for him. She wasn't. And Eugene would have left her side if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't want to leave Eddie alone with their mother.

He missed New Orleans more than ever. He wished he could return right after dinner. Or before. He didn't mind taking the train while feeling hungry. Better that than the nauseous fear of no longer feeling like he was a player that could win this game of not being able to leave both of your enemies alone.

And while Eugene followed his mother around, Merriell was sometimes left alone with the youngest brother.

Merriell thought that Eddie was a _bad_ copy of Eugene.

His hair was auburn, closer in color to brown than it was to red. His nose was smaller and he was a little taller. He had none of Eugene's grace and for sure, none of his charm. It was like comparing a man to a saint; with far too many flaws and vices. It didn't help that Eugene told him about what he called him a couple of hours ago. And neither did the fact that Eddie looked at him with a challenge on his silent tongue. That was just a stupid brat. And if he was someone from the street with no connection to Eugene, he would make sure he would learn his lesson and not disrespect his boy ever again.

Merriell said nothing and did nothing, but his eyes made the promise that he would not tolerate a certain kind of language if he was around. If he ever witnessed Eddie calling his older brother _those kind_ names, Merriell would step in. And remind him that he owed him far more respect than he was showing.

At least Edward tried his best to be with the other two boys, almost trying to force peace upon that house as he did during dinner. Merriell did not say a word. He only looked at Eddie when the youngest refused to engage in the conversation. Eugene didn't speak much either, hating to see himself back in that cage and doing whatever that his mother asked or told him to do. He ached to be free again. He wanted to do something rebellious and prove himself that he was the master of his own happiness and desires. That he was no longer under his mother's control.

*** * ***

It was either the heat or the fact that he wanted to make something dangerous.

Eugene couldn't tell for sure which one was it, but he felt the same weight on his stomach as he did that night when he invited Merriell into his (now _their_ ) bedroom and the same thin layer of delirious sweat was covering his body. He rubbed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, shifting and laying on his stomach, on his side and finally on his back. The nape of his neck was moist and it was such a displeasing feeling to lay over the pillow. Everything was uncomfortable and nothing was satisfying enough. Eugene couldn't help but picture himself as a bird locked in a small cage. His brother's accusation and his mother's authority only made those bars stand closer to his wings.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and pulled his sleeves up, kicking the sheets off his body. He wanted to be himself. He wanted to be the same boy that he was back in New Orleans: free and happy. Close to the one that he loved the most. The redhead pinched his lower lip as his other hand rubbed his fingers against his stomach, toying with the small button he found there. His fingers slipped inside of his mouth and he bit them before his fingertips touched the skin of his stomach, gingerly going lower and toying with the elastic of his pajama bottoms.

Maybe it was not the heat but maybe he wanted to play with fire.

He stood up and the floor creaked softly, almost asking him to not give in. That he should go back to bed and hope the need would fade. He didn't want to let the night pass before making sure that Merriell knew that he loved him and that he was by his side no matter what. Neither he wanted the night to become day without feeling like he was not the one guiding his own steps.

Eugene walked towards the door and caressed the doorknob before he opened it. He barely had to cross the corridor before getting to the guest's room.

He knew Merriell very well. In the same way that he kept himself from falling asleep after he lashed out at him the first night after he came back home, Merriell was going to keep himself awake that night since he quite suspected that he was heard while he had those terrible nightmares. Eugene thought he looked beautiful with the moonlight landing over his chin and his shoulders as he toyed with his dog tags.

When Eugene closed the door with his back, still careful to not wake anyone up, Merriell sat down straight on the bed and slipped the last reminder of war and the very symbol of his own life back underneath the light t-shirt he wore. If they had been back home, he would had been shirtless _as usual_.

“I was about to...” he began to try to find a lie. Instead of doing that, he decided to tell the truth: “I'm doin' fine. I'm calm, I ain't gonna have another nightmare.”

“It's not that, Merry.” the impact was _instantaneous_. Merriell swallowed and tensed his jaw, folding one leg and extending his hand towards him. Eugene didn't hold it but brushed his fingertips over his palm. Merriell chased his touch and tried to, at least, get to tug on his fingers. Eugene leaned most of his weight on his right foot; his knee touched the edge of the mattress.

“Then what is it?” he whispered with a slow and sweet voice. He missed him and hated being away from him under the same roof just as much.

“I can't take it anymore.” Eugene confessed, holding his wrist and brought his hand to his waist.

Merriell didn't waste time before he started to caress the very subtle curve, pressing his thumb against the bone and squeezing the thin layer of flesh. Eugene stepped forward and Merriell brought his hand back, squeezing his left buttock and rubbed his forehead against his stomach.

“I thought you wanted us to be _careful_.” Merriell mumbled against the light and pale fabric, returning his hand back to the front and cupping his crotch.

“I am, everybody is sleeping.” Eugene replied with a light sigh, dragging his nails over Merriell's scalp. He knew what he said this morning after speaking with Eddie. But there was as much stress as he could deal with before snapping and wanting to regain control.

“...And there was no way we would fuck while being at your parents'.” He was risking it. For sure he didn't want to stop, but he had to make sure that he was not mistaking the situation or that Eugene was only doing it because he was not thinking clearly.

“If you want me to lea—”

“ _No_.”

The redhead smirked and pushed him back towards the headboard. He slid his hands between his hips and the fabric and pulled the trousers down his legs and stepped out of them with Merriell's helping hand.

The veteran pushed the sheets off him and Eugene sat down on his lap, kissing him right away. Merriell wrapped his arms tightly around his waist as the redhead ran his fingers through his curls, tugging tenderly as his tongue made it past his lips.

Nothing would ever feel better than this. Or more natural. They were meant to be together and nor his mother or his brother could ever make him feel like this was _wrong_. Eugene would be with Merriell until the very end with or without their approval's. The grip on his waist became a little tighter when he was encouraged to move, rubbing his ass against Merriell's crotch, feeling him become harder and harder under him.

This was _control_. This was the result of being free and deciding things for himself: nothing but joy and pleasure. Eugene pulled Merriell's lower lip with his teeth, smiling as he heard him mewl. He loved him. So much. He pressed another kiss where his skin was becoming red and moist and reminded him: “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he said without any doubt or shame as he brushed his calloused palms and fingers all over Eugene's legs and waist underneath the pajama shirt that was falling over his lap, not letting him see practically anything other than Eugene's milky thighs. “Why don't you take thi—” he didn't finish his question as Eugene's fingers caressed his mouth, trying to find a way past his lips. Merriell started to suck on them as soon as he had them inside of his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed when Eugene added some more friction. He held Eugene down and tight against his lap, raising his hips and making sure he felt how hard he was for him already. The situation was thrilling and even more considering how comfortable Eugene ended up feeling about his own sexual desires.

This would be a memory he would _never_ forget.

Eugene brought his fingers behind himself and Merriell wanted to _see_. What he taught him, how he learned everything that he showed him. He raised the fabric and held it over Eugene's back, leaning his chin over the boy's shoulder and seeing how he carefully pressed his fingers inside of himself. Eugene sighed heavily and Merriell kissed and bit his neck to keep himself from being too loud. Only looking at him brought him far more pleasure that anything he experienced before his boy.

He gave him as much time as he needed, kissing his lips when he opened his mouth to keep making those little noises that were only far more arousing since they had to be quiet. His parents woke up last night when Merriell had a nightmare. They could wake up again, but thankfully, they wouldn't check on him since they _knew_ the reason. Neither they would try to find their son, assuming that he was soothing the former Marine. And in a way, he was. Just not about nightmares, this time.

When Eugene gripped his shoulder with his shaky hand, Merriell understood that he was _ready_. He raised his hips once again and pushed his underwear down his thighs, not even making it past his knees. He didn't want to waste time, so he spat on the palm of his hand and coated his erection with saliva.

He saw Eugene lick his lips as he lowered himself and sat on his cock. Merriell blinked and exhaled, feeling the warm and comforting tightness around him. In moments like this, when they made love, it truly felt like nothing could ever go wrong. Just to think how many years they would spend together filled his heart with hope and happiness. Eugene looked at him with heavy eyelids; with devotion. Merriell felt _loved_.

No one could ever get tired of that feeling.

“Good...?” he asked.

Eugene nodded before he started to move, feeling the gentle burn turn his blood even warmer.

Even if it had to be quiet and not too fast (the headboard would hit against the wall and that would be far too obvious), it was just as pleasurable. They moaned into each other's mouths and Merriell raised Eugene's hips, up and down, as he held onto his shoulders. He could feel his breath against his cheek when Eugene leaned his forehead against Merriell's. He smiled when the cajun looked at him and chuckled a little. Maybe he was a little changeable? Or maybe this was something that was supposed to happen. It's been a little while since they started having sex and Eugene enjoyed it. Tremendously. And clearly he was no longer the same boy that almost had a panic attack the first time he slept on Merriell's bed for the first time.

And Merriell... Of course he had an irresistible taste for everything that was _forbidden_. This was off limits. The Sledge's house was as sacred as a church, if not more. He didn't forget the detail of where they had their first kiss. Eugene was slowly conquering those restrictive places and turning them into temples where to store pieces of their love story. Eugene swallowed Merriell's whimper when he pulled his curls and Merriell, exchange, scratched his back and started to thrust harder into him. Enough to compose a very obvious noise.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Eugene panted out of breath, clearly enjoying it by the way his cheeks blushed and his mouth parted. He held one of Merriell's wrists and tilted his head back as he kept that same steady and quick pace, losing his voice completely. His tongue was thick and without the ability to pronounce proper words anymore. Those came rushed and short out of his mouth and Eugene was fairly lucky if he managed to said something other than _Merriell_ 's name or _God_ 's.

His body was giving him all the clues to understand he was not going to last anymore. His stomach was tight and his legs were starting to move nervously, almost wanting to escape Merriell but desperately needing him, at the same time. He planted one foot on the mattress, right next to Merriell's hip and kept moving, firm as him, only making more noise, but unable to stop at that moment when he was so close. The only thing the other man had to do was wrap his hand around his cock and barely tug twice before Eugene came.

After the orgasm, the redhead almost fell backwards. Merriell wrapped one arm around his waist once again and his other hand cupped the back of Eugene's head; bringing him closer. The boy was trembling, clearly overwhelmed and overstimulated, gasping and breathing deeply against his neck. His face all red and his body plaint and soft as he took as much as he needed from him.

*** * ***

Eugene shook his head a little bit as he put pajama bottoms back on. Merriell had a blissful smile on his lips, still laying on the same spot in the bed. Now his shirt was gone (it got dirty) and his underwear was back in place. He had one arm wrapped under his head and smoked a cigarette with a lazy smirk on his lips. He was a complete idiot and the most obvious person he ever met in his life.

“That smile of yours is insufferable.” he lied.

“I love you so much right now, you can tell me whatever the Hell you want, Gene.” he hummed.

Eugene opened the window so the smoke wouldn't end up trapped inside of the room. Also, it would help with the smell of sweat and sex. “I'll make sure to keep it in mind if I ever want something. I'll know when to ask.” he leaned down and took a drag of the cigarette, turning his head and exhaling the smoke. “I love you, I'll see you tomorrow.” he whispered before he pressed a tender kiss against his lips.

“Love you too, boy.” he replied with the sweetest voice.

Eugene caressed his face and kissed him one last time.

After his little adventure in the middle of the night, Eugene walked back to his bedroom with trembling legs and a smile on he lips.

He slept like a baby until the next morning.

 


	27. Disgrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am your mother.” she hissed. She would have never went against her mother's wish. A mother's word should never be questioned.  
> “And I am your son!” the redhead snapped. “I am not a little boy. I don't always need your guidance, I know what I am doing. And I know what I want!”
> 
> OR
> 
> And I OOOP...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: homophobia and slurs. Eddie is an asshole and he needs to leave.

The next morning Eugene felt strong. Almost _unstoppable_.

No one noticed and no one knew. It was such a new experience to feel like he finally won inside of that house. The corners that used to be filled with misery and something muffled against his throat now looked like a shelter for his love. In the same way that the church didn't collapse after he kissed Merriell for the first time, his house didn't turn against him. Eugene thought that morning that those places were free of guilt. Those who made them unwelcoming where the people that lived inside of them.

Such an obvious conclusion and how much time it took to understand!

When he sat down with his family to have breakfast, it was very similar but very unlike what they lived the previous night during dinner. It was Edward who tried to do as much as possible to bring a conversation to the table, even if Eddie was not willing to indulge his father and even if Mary Frank was looking at Merriell like she expected him to reveal his true nature at any moment. Eugene smiled more and spoke back to him. He felt in control and very little they could do to diminish his confidence.

Merriell, on the other hand, had that _look_ in his eyes. That certain glow only partially hidden by his heavy eyelids. It was fairly easy for Eugene to finally understand that through sex, there was very little he couldn't get from him. The satisfaction of intimacy and closeness drove Merriell insane. He always wanted it, he always craved it. It was like he spent decades yearning to touch his flesh and breathe his scent. Eugene foolishly thought that it was one of the many consequences of war and living surrounded by violence and enemies. Who wouldn't want a gentle touch and the reward of pleasure just to express your true feelings?

Eugene pressed his lips together to keep himself from smiling as he thought about Merriell's expression from last night. Vain and superficial as it was, it made him feel good to think that only he could take him to that state of pure bliss.

They spent a few minutes together right after breakfast.

Eugene found Merriell leaning against the railing of their porch, smoking calmly and looking forward, his eyes lost somewhere betweek the oaks and the gates of their estate.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eugene asked as he approached him.

Merriell grinned silently, not turning to look back at him. The wood lightly cracking under the redhead's weight was revealing enough for him to understand to came alone. Then, he answered: “You know damn well what I'm thinkin' about, boy.”

“Do I?” Eugene hummed as he rested his lower back against the railing, with his back to the garden and his eyes on the door of the house. _Just in case_.

“I can spell it if you want me to.” he replied before he took a long drag, finally looking at him.

“Oh, we are talking about that...” he grinned and bit his lower lip. Eugene ducked his head and looked back at him.

“Gonna cherish it until the very end, Sledgehammer.” he meant it. Eugene walking that final distance and releasing himself from those shackles that kept him chained to a morality and a shame that didn't do much for him was... quite a something. “And to think that when I met you, you were a prestine church boy...” his voice became awfully intimate, way lower and slurring and dragging the words.

“I'm still a church boy, actually.” His faith did not become any smaller, it was simply more flexible. Didn't restrain him anymore. “Which, talking about church. You should join me more often.”

“I'm goin' to your best friend's wedding. Askin' more from me would be unfair and fuckin' cruel.” for Merriell, actually attenting Sid's wedding seemed to be a _punishment_.

“And yet I am _still_ asking more.” Eugene hummed with a playful smirk. Merriell would never go with him to church. And maybe that was for the best considering how huffy he acted during Burgie's wedding. Tomorrow wouldn't be any better.

“Spoiled boy.”

“Whose fault is that?” Eugene slipped a little closer to him, turning his head and raising his chin.

“All mine, I assume.” Merriell grinned back at him, clearly looking at his lips. He licked his own and leaned forward before he heard Mary Frank calling her son's name. “Oh, for fuck's sake!” he groaned and rubbed his forehead. He couldn't wait until they would be back to New Orleans.

Eugene chuckled and patted his arm, affectionate. “Just another day and we'll be free.” It was like he read his mind. There wasn't anything in this world he wanted more than going back _home_.

*** * ***

His mother kept playing the same foolish game as she did yesterday.

She kept Eugene awfully close but the boy was far more rebellious than he has ever been in his life. While his mother played her game, Eugene decided to create one for himself. He sneaked out and found a few minutes, or even seconds, with Merriell alone and shared kisses and gentle touches in the loneliest parts of the house.

It was like playing with fire, but it was the only thing that made the hours pass in that luxurious cage. Merriell's smirk against his lips and his fingers over his shoulder or his waist was the only reason why the clocks in their house kept working.

Oh, God. Just another day and they will be back home. He couldn't wait.

“I miss our house.” Eugene breathed in the corridor. Merriell's forehead was resting against his. He gripped the cajun's green shirt with his fingers over his chest. He kept his cigarettes in his pocket, he could feel them under his right palm. “I miss Mamaw and I miss Lou. And I miss being alone with you.” He missed New Orleans and everything there was to love and despise about the city. He even missed the humid weather and the mosquitoes of the bayou.

“Tomorrow.” Merriell replied.

“Mhmm...” he closed his eyes and nodded. He pulled onto his shirt and Merriell kissed him once again.

And it was funny how something that took _months_ to build could be destroyed in just one afternoon.

Mary Frank was never fond of shoes that were _noisy_. Made her feel vulgar. Her mother always told her to be modest. To follow God's rules, for those would never disappoint her or make her feel like she ever did wrong. God's word is the only certainty of a righteous path. She tried to teach her children after that same belief but while offering what her mother never gave her: affection. Everything she ever did, in her eyes, was for her children's well-being. She was their mother and therefore, she knew best.

That afternoon, she was going to take the porcelain from the cabinet to clean it before dinner (an old habit that she had; that _need_ for perfection). And then, when she was about to cross the corridor, she saw them.

Eugene could never play a game and expect to win against his own mother. She would _always_ have the upper hand.

At first, she thought that Merriell was there all by himself. And since she didn't quite trust the boy (he was truly not the innocent and lonely infant she once met), she stepped forward to see if he felt sick or if he put something inside of his pockets. But then she saw five pale fingers emerging from his shoulder and cupping the back of his neck. It took her no time to recognize Eugene's ring. It was a heirloom from Edward's family. He gave it to their oldest son when the boy became a teenager. Ever since, he changed it from one finger to another the more his hands grew.

The tenderness those finger offered were not friendly or brotherly. The intimacy of the touch was unbearable to stomach for Mary Frank. Still, there was something deep inside of her not wanting to accept what she was witnessing. Maybe there was an explanation for the closeness. Maybe the broken boy was having a terrible morning in the same way he also seemed to have nights of pure agony. And because she desperately wanted to give her son the benefit of the doubt, she stood still and saw, then, how Eugene tilted his head, with his eyes closed.

Mary Frank had to look away when they kissed, with a hand on her chest and the other one over the opposite wall of the corridor.

Eugene felt something vibrating close to him. That was not Merriell, who kissed him slowly and calmly. It was not him. He breathed turmoil. It was not him and he feared _the worst_. He leaned back and slowly broke the kiss, resting the back of his head over the wall and saw his mother over Merriell's shoulder, pale and with her eyes on the floor.

She caught them.

His lungs became tight and useless. He exhaled and gripped Merriell's shoulder harshly. The older boy snorted and thought that Eugene was overreacting a bit after their kiss, since he was still nosing his jaw and brushing his lips over his skin. Eugene pulled him away slightly and Merriell finally looked at him. There was _terror_ in Eugene's eyes.

“What?” he asked before he turned around. When Merriell saw Mary Frank, refusing to look at them and awfully silent, he knew that this wouldn't end up well for any of them. Merriell kept his lips pressed together and decided that cursing wouldn't help in that moment.

There were a few seconds of silence before she walked towards the living room, soundless as she arrived. Eugene swallowed thickly and looked at Merriell, trying to find a plan or an answer in his eyes. The veteran rubbed back of his neck, his shoulders becoming all tense and feeling suffocated. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.

“Mother.” Eugene stepped forward and Merriell moved to the side so he could follow her. “I can explain.” Must he? He didn't want to. He didn't want to give her the details of his relationship with Merriell. He didn't have to. What they had, it was between the two of them. But how was he supposed to solve this, if not?

Mary Frank rested her hands over the back of the couch and turned her head to look at her son. “This was not supposed to happen, Eugene.”

That made him feel angry. That was not supposed to happen only because his mother never thought that Merriell would grow and become a man. And mostly importantly because she never thought her son would ever dare to love someone without her approval. Merriell joined them in the living room, quiet, with his arms crossed and giving them space. Still, Mary Frank refused to land her eyes on him _ever again_.

“I did not send you to New Orleans for this kind of thing.” she added. He was a poor, lost, ruined and helpless man. He was no longer a sad and lonely child.

Eugene couldn't help himself: “You don't control every single detail of my life.”

“I am your _mother_.” she hissed. She would have never went against her mother's wish. A mother's word should never be questioned.

“And I am your son!” the redhead snapped. “I am not a little boy. I don't always need your guidance, I know what I am doing. And I know what I want!”

“Eugene.” Merriell stepped forward and held his arm, softly. That was his mother. He couldn't speak to her like that. He shouldn't. But Merriell's opinion came from the fact that he never had one and therefore, he respected the idolized figure and not a real woman, with flaws and virtues.

“Don't touch my son.” her voice was severe and tight.

“He can touch me if I want him to.” Eugene raised his chin as Merriell stepped back. He didn't let him. He held Merriell's wrist and kept him close. “Merriell and I are together, mother. We've been for months. And there's _nothing_ you can do about it.”

“I should have known that something like this would happen. Eugene, you were always far too sweet and naïve. I should had been there with you.” she shook her head and covered her face with her hand. “No one would have tricked you if I had been there.”

“Merriell didn't trick me.” he seethed. “We are in love.”

“Oh, don't be foolish!” she hit the back of the couch, letting some of her anger out. “ _I_ _f a man lies with a male as with a wo_ — ”

Eugene frowned even more when she thought about using the same passage as Sid did when he visited them. “Save it! It didn't change my mind then, it's not going to change my mind now!”

“You are choosing a life of loneliness, Eugene! Nothing can come out of _this_!” she gestured at their hands. Why did she act like those were soaked in blood? It was love, nothing more than that. Nothing shameful or to be angry about. “You won't get to have children. You won't see them grow. You won't be able to go anywhere with him. Is that what you want? To isolate yourself from life because a _miserable boy_?”

Merriell licked his lips and cleared his throat. Eugene squeezed his wrist. “ _Miserable boy_? How dare you.” Mary Frank's eyes widened as he didn't take her side and confronted her. “This is the same person you thought that was worth saving.”

“No. No, he's not.” she refused to think that without her, this would have never happened. “This has to end, Eugene.”

Eugene shook his head.Absolutely not. “You don't like this because it's beyond your control! You hate it when things don't happen exactly in the way you want them to. Guess what, mother? I'm a grown up! I'm a man and I don't need your approval anymore! We'll go to New Orleans right after Sid's wedding, no matter if you agree or if you _don't_.” God knows he would leave in that very moment, but his friend deserved better from him.

“You will not disobey me, Eugene.” she took another step forward. “You owe your mother some respect and you will stay with us and end this madness. It's for your own good.”

“Don't you dare to say that. Don't you even dare to say that this is for my own good. Nothing you ever did was for my own good.” That wasn't true. Not completely. Mary Frank tried to look after him even if her love was suffocating and overly demanding. “You know I've been _miserable_ for years! You know how hard it was for me to keep it quiet and try to think that someday I would find a girl I could love. It's not going to happen! I am not going to find her. I am not going to marry her. I am not going to have children with her and that's _fine_! Because none of that is what I wanted. That's what _you_ wanted for _me_!”

None of that made sense to her. How could a man desire another in a romantic way? Love was created to balance both kinds. God created woman to be a man's companion. And that was what her son must have. Not some... boy that surely couldn't even afford to pay his rent.

“You tricked my son, didn't you?” Mary Frank spoke to Merriell.

“Don't talk to him.” Eugene stood between them. “This is between you and me.”

“I don't think it is.” she was still seeing Eugene as a boy. She kept infantilizing him, in the same way she did with Merriell until she saw him. “What did you say to him? Did you threaten him? Was it easier to afford your place with my son being there?” she made the same assumptions as Sid did. His low income and his tanned skin forced him to fit the role of the deceiver. “Wicked war boy, what have you done to my son? You want him to be lonely, poor and unfortunate by your side?”

“Stop it!” Eugene practically pleaded at that moment. He didn't want Merriell to hear those words, they weren't true. “You have no idea what are you talking about!” It took so long for Merriell to think he was worth of some happiness. He wasn't even convinced that he wouldn't abandon him at any given chance! The only thing Eugene wanted for Merriell was pure joy. “I _love_ him!” he said, loud and clear. Eugene turned his head and looked at Merriell. The cajun was visibly sad and shaken by the assumptions that were made. But even more than that. He was worried about the fact that he was destroying Eugene's relationship with his mother. Was he worth any of this? Probably not. Eugene could recognize that look in his eyes and almost begged: “It's not true. Please. It's not true, alright?”

“He's going to take what he needs from you,” money, she suspected. “and then he is going to leave you behind, Eugene. Your heart will be broken but I'll be here. I'll always be here.” she reached out to rest her hand on Eugene's shoulder and he moved away from her touch.

“You are _wicked_.” she had to be when she dared to say that with Merriell in front of her.

“You'll thank me with time.” and from her point of view, she was being a merciful mother. She allowed her son to decide for himself, but she would keep him safe if she saw that this was going to bring him nothing but sadness and pain. What would they do to her poor boy if they found out?

Eugene parted his lips but didn't get to say anything as the door of the house opened and his father and younger brother stepped inside. The scene in the living room was tense and unwelcoming. The fact that Eugene was holding Merriell's hand revealed plenty about the situation. Eddie looked like a hyena by the way he smiled. Was that his brother, still?

“What's going on?” Edward asked as he walked into the living room.

Eugene felt like there was a race between him and his mother. Whoever that got to his father first would win. He released Merriell's hand and quickly stepped towards him. “Papa, _please_.” It's been a long time since Eugene called him that. He desperately needed some help to win this argument. Or see that someone was on his side.

Edward hoped that this situation would never happen. That Eugene and Merriell would leave without her ever finding out. Or if she did, it was while having a state between them. “Mary Frank...” he began just to be interrupted right away.

“No, Edward. You can't tell me I am wrong about this.” she shook her head, far more composed than anyone would have expected from situation. She did not cry as Eugene always pictured she would have. She didn't scream as Edward thought. “This is not going to happen. Eugene will stay with us. Merriell...” she didn't bother herself to offer him any sort of attention. “Do what's right. Leave as quick and as silent as possible. Thank you.”

Merriell swallowed and looked down. His hands trembled. This was a family. Eugene's family. He couldn't destroy it just like that. He nodded and stepped forward.

“What the Hell you think you are doing?” Eugene seemed to be out of breath, walking from his father back to Merriell. “You are not going anywhere.” he pushed him back a bit to force him to stand on the position where he stood seconds ago. He looked like he was trying to control this whole situation. And failing.

Eddie decided to speak.

“Kick them out. Both of them.” he said without compassion. “People will talk if they see them together at Sid's wedding. Who would want to be known as the ones that have an _invert_ for a son?”

“Not now, Eddie.” Mary Frank denied. While she also feared the opinion of her neighbors, this was not a matter that had to be solved by children.

Eddie saw a favoritism in his mother's actions, so he grew far more jealous and angry: “Now is the right time. Is he still the one you love the most? Even if he is a fucking fairy?” If Eugene was not going to fall from their pedestal, he was going to push him off.

That question left everybody silent. Mary Frank looked surprised that he dared to imply that she loved one son more than the other. Merriell's wrath was making his stomach hurt and twist when the youngest insulted his boy.

“Eddie, you won't speak like that under my roof.” Edward cut him off. “Apologize to your brother and your mother.”

“Why?” he licked his lips. “Because I am finally asking the question you've been wanting to ignore for years? Because it hurts too much to know that Eugene and that fucker are more than friends? Welcome to the real world. Eugene is not fucking perfect. Your eldest is nothing but a faggot, dad.”

Merriell knew that he wouldn't be able to tolerate certain words. That they would make him snap. He knew that yesterday when Eugene told him how Eddie called him an invert and he knew now when the youngest called his brother even more. The sudden burst of anger and frustration caught everybody off guard. Mary Frank gasped and Edward kept his son close to him. Eugene was quick to catch Merriell before he could get any close to Eddie.

There was pure wrath in his eyes. At the boy, at the situation and at himself for not being enough for Eugene. Still, the rehead caressed his arms and cupped his face. He said something he didn't manage to hear. He looked out of it, like the situation was torturing him. For sure that reaction only proved Mary Frank right. The boy was violent, cruel, broken, lost and just no good for her son. And he had to leave. She did her part. Eugene did his, as well. But she was not going to sacrifice her own son for some... boy that grew up in the bayou.

“Come on.” Eddie licked his upper teeth. “Hit me, mongrel. That's what you fucking are, war dog. Prove us right before you leave.”

Eugene would _never_ hit his brother but at that very moment, he wanted to. He really wanted to. “Shut the fuck up, Eddie!” he roared, still trying to hold Merriell back.

“That's enough.” Edward forced the boy to take a step back. Then he stood in front of him and offered him a couple of bills from his wallet. “Take this. You are not going to spend the night here after saying all that and refusing to apologize. You won't disrespect your mother, insult your brother or rile Merriell up.”

“He turns out to be a pansy and I'm in the wrong?” Eddie gasped, unable to believe that after that, his father was willing to take Eugene's side, _still_.

“Please.” he extended the money.

Eddie looked at both of his parents and then at the couple. Merriell was only a little calmer, but with pure violence in his green eyes. “You are all fucking incredible. This is such bullshit.” he snatched the money from his father's hand and left slamming the door shut. Without his clothes, without _anything_. Eddie always felt like he was put in a second position, now he knew for sure.

*** * ***

Merriell could only hear the worst from the guest room. Each time Eugene raised his voice or Mary Frank defined him with terrible words now that she thought that he couldn't listen to her. At some point he even stood in the corridor to be aware of what the father said, since he spoke so softly. _The boy has chosen what he wants to do, Mary Frank, we have to support his decision_ , he argued. But the woman was not taking it.

He always knew that he didn't quite deserve Eugene: his guts told him, his mind told him. His heart wanted to deny the reality. But he also thought that the redhead would realize and simply move on with his life. And that he would accept his rejection and cherish those moments that he had with him. But...

But he couldn't help himself. He loved the boy and he was selfish for doing such. He kept him away from his family for far too long and now he was putting everything at risk. Only because he wanted to keep him. Was that fair?

The same voice that was born during the war and that Eugene managed to muffle with his very presence became louder and answered: _No_.

What could he offer to Eugene?

 _Nothing_. Mary Frank was right. It felt like choosing him would be a life of loneliness. Not so much because of the children they clearly couldn't have, but more because of the distance that would be between him and his parents. While Merriell didn't think his mother and brother were all too great, it was clear that Eugene adored his father. And for him to no longer be in touch with him because he wanted to stay with him... That would be _selfish_.

Merriell rubbed his forehead and walked back inside of the guest room and closed the door.

He knew _what_ he had to do. And he knew _how_. He was told moments ago: _leave as quick and as silent as possible_. The cajun licked his lips and kicked his shoes off, the left one hit the closet rather loudly. He was full of anger, frustration and sadness. He had to leave the boy and he didn't want to. He didn't want to live in an empty house, thinking about those mornings when Eugene offered him a cup of coffee before going to class. Or the nights they spent together sleeping in the same bed after having sex. Or go to Mamaw's and eat with her while the redhead was no longer there. Or simply visit Lou's _mercerie_ so she would drive them back to the bayou.

He didn't want to live his life without Eugene but he couldn't keep him because... Because what if doesn't work out? What would his boy do? Leave New Orleans and go back to a home that Merriell's presence tore apart? To lose the support of a mother, that must be... That must be terrible. And to lose the advice of a father must be just as bad. He could only imagine, but not because he didn't have parents that meant he wanted the same for Eugene.

God knows he wanted the best for him. Merriell was even willing to rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him when he told him had a _condition_. His love was devotion and he liked to think it was selfless. But that was the moment to prove it. If he loves him as much as he thinks, he will let him stay here. Solve this problem. Keep his family. Have a beautiful life.

Merriell took his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. He laid down on the bed and he could still hear their muffled voices. Eugene was fighting with everything he had to convince his mother and it would be worthless. Mary Frank didn't see him as anything more than a broken boy. She saw right through his facade: he was nothing and he had nothing to offer. He was the shell of a tormented veteran and that was about it.

_Took you long time to figure out. Or you always knew and continued to pretend to keep the boy? Fuck, you truly tricked him, didn't you?_

Yes. Yes, he did.

When he heard voices becoming lower and then nothing but silence, Merriell switched the lights off. Some rushed steps approached: Eugene. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep right before the boy knocked at his door and opened it slightly.

“Merriell?” he asked. His voice was soft but clearly distressed, seeking to talk to him. He knew that if he opened his eyes and listened to him, he would never leave. He would become selfish and miserable again, knowing that he wouldn't be able to face a life without his boy. That's why he kept them closed.

Maybe Eugene knew that he wasn't sleeping. Maybe he didn't. Either way, he approached the bed and covered his body properly with the thin sheet. He caressed his hair and Merriell kept himself from shivering. Oh, fuck, he will miss him _so bad_.

“I'm sorry for everything.” he whispered, both his voice and touch so light. Far too light to wake anyone up, but loud enough for Merriell to hear. “I love you.” there was so much truth in that statement that he didn't think he deserved it. He couldn't take the boy away from his family. He couldn't trap Eugene in that cage with him. Force him to take care of him each time he felt sick. Live in the middle of the bayou in a rotting house when he had this.

He couldn't. He couldn't ruin his life like that. He _had_ to let him have better. He loved him that fucking much.

Eugene kissed his forehead and walked away. He closed the door after him and then...

Then Merriell what he had to do.

*** * ***

It took him hours to do it. His heart was begging and his mind was torturing him. He knew what he had to do, but he didn't want to. Merriell dressed up in silence and while he did the buttons of his shirt, a couple of tears rolled down his cheeks and he had to stop. He sat down on the bed and pressed his hands against his face and cried, suffocating his agony against his palms.

After crying of pure pain for who knows how long, Merriell rubbed his eyes and saw that the Sun was starting to raise. He should leave before anyone wakes up. _Fuck!_ Fuck Sid Phillips for ever wanting to get married. Fuck Eugene's mother for seeing right through him. Fuck Eugene for making him love him so. And fuck himself for thinking this had any sort of happy ending.

Merriell inhaled and stood up once again, finishing doing his shirt and shoving the clothes he used during those three days back inside of his suitcase. This is the end. He was leaving the boy. For the best. For his happiness.

 _You had six months with him. Be satisfied_.

What's six month when he could have years with him? Decades?

That was not his life. That would never be his life.

 _You survived a war, surely you can survive separation_.

Well, that's yet to be seen.

He closed the door after him. The house was quiet and looked far more threatening than ever. Merriell slid a little note under his Eugene's door, knowing that if he saw the boy, he would fall on his knees and cry again. Beg him to be satisfied with him. But that would be selfish, and for Eugene, Merriell was willing to set himself on fire. Couldn't hurt any more than this.

Merriell went downstairs and saw it was almost six in the morning. He felt like he would see that hour plenty of days to come. He was not going to sleep much once he will be without his darling boy.

He walked out of the house.


	28. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat on that church, hearing the priest talk about love and he didn't believe anything that he said. He was speaking lies. Eugene had love so tightly tied to his noisy heart, that each time it swelled up and contracted, it squeezed pain into his veins just to think that Merriell abandoned him. That he said that love was not enough. That what he felt for him was not enough. How was he supposed to believe that love would last until death would do them apart? There were far too many things that could stand in their way.
> 
> OR
> 
> Sid gets married but no one cares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say. I wrote this as quick as possible because I love drama.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Merriell walked out of the house, Edward was already on the porch, smoking and thinking about all the things that happened the previous night. His youngest son left after letting them all see how he had been corrupted by jealousy, his wife was stubborn and convinced that she could save her son, and Eugene... Well, the poor boy seemed to be back on that starting point that brought him so much pain. How could he help them? How could he make this right?

The veteran was trying his best to not cry once again. He was doing this because he loved Eugene and because he couldn't see how keeping him in his life would guarantee him any sort of future happiness. Maybe love was not enough. Or maybe it was, but _his_ surely wasn't. He had to let him go. Merriell closed the door after him, as silently as he could, but that was enough to bring Edward back to the moment and keep him from overthinking and trying to find a solution to find the balance in his family.

“Merriell.” he called, seeing that he was carrying his suitcase with him. “Are you leaving?”

He gulped and turned, not expecting to find the father there. It was far too early for anyone to be awake. _Fuck_. Merriell cleared his throat and looked around, hoping to find a good excuse among those trees surrounding the state. “I...” nothing came. _Speak the truth, then_. “I think it's for the best.”

“I guess I am in the obligation to stop you, then.” he offered a small and soft smile.

“There's nothing you can do, sir.” Merriell shook his head. He _had_ to do this.

“Can I, talk to you for a little while, at least? It won't take me more than ten minutes. I promise.” he gestured towards the rocking chair by his side. Two mornings ago he spoke with his son in that same spot and saw how much love he had for this curious boy.

The cajun looked at the closed door and then at the man. Perhaps is that little voice inside of his head that told him to stay what made him nod and sit down with him.

“I have always been worried about my son.” Edward confessed. “He was always quiet and anxious. He didn't know how to talk to us. He didn't know how to make us understand that there was so much about him that was silenced. I remember sometimes walking past his bedroom and hear him crying. And when I tried to talk to him, he said it was fine. That he was fine. That he only felt sad, sometimes. But that he didn't quite know the reason. We thought...” he smiled a bit sadly. “We thought it was compassionate nature of his, you know? Mary Frank was convinced that our son was gifted. That he had... something that could make people feel calm and at peace. That's how she felt around him but I...” Edward shook his head. “I know I have a good boy as a son, but I would have also wanted him to be happy.”

“He'll be happy here, with you.” Merriell replied with a small voice, looking down.

“That's what you truly think?”

“You are his father and he loves you. A boy needs his family.”

“Well, aren't you part of his family, now?” Edward insisted.

Merriell licked his lips and bit them, to keep himself from crying. “I can't offer much, can I? _War boy_ like me.”

The doctor sighed and rested his hand on Merriell's shoulder. “I don't know if Eugene told you much about us, but I had the chance to see those boys after they returned from the Great War.” the cajun nodded briefly. If Eugene spoke about his family, it was mostly to let him know about his father. “Not only their bodies were torn. They also had their souls torn out. They had no spark, no love and no life in their eyes. But that's not what I see when I look at you, son.” Merriell exhaled, shaking and quickly rubbing his eyes when a tear decided to betray him by streaming down his cheek, unexpected and unwelcome. “And while I don't know much about what happened between you two,” it was their intimacy and their life, they didn't have to share it with anyone if they didn't want to. “I bet my son had something to do with that. You say you have nothing to offer, but that's not what I think. Our son has been _miserable_ with us.” and it pained him to say that, but he had to be honest. “What he needed, he couldn't find it here. But with you... My son wouldn't be devoted to someone as he is to you if you didn't deserve it. What can you offer, Merriell? Well, exactly what Eugene needed and what no one else could give him. Not even his own parents. I think that's something you should be proud of.”

Merriell scratched his temple, taking some time to compose himself or make sure wouldn't shed more tears or speak with a trembling voice. He exhaled and whispered: “Then why doesn't it feel like it's enough? Why am I always thinking that he is going to leave me?”

“We don't always see what we really are.” Edward replied and Merriell, for the first time in his life, thought that it would had been nice to have a father if he had been just like the doctor. “Sometimes we _only_ see what we don't have. Sometimes we can only see what we are not giving the ones we love. This world is not about money, if that's what are you trying to imply.” and that was funny coming from him who was, obviously, quite wealthy.

“Not only that.” he shook his head. “A normal life. I can't give him that. Your wife said so, yesterday.”

“My wife is an insecure woman who had to pretend to be confident in hopes to become a good mother. She is loving and kind. But that doesn't mean she always makes the right decision when it comes to our son's happiness.” Edward cut him right away. “I can't tell you that I understand how it might be to have to hide all the time. I don't know that feeling. But there's something I know: This world can't be understood without the love we offer and receive. Life is not worth living while stripping yourself from the most primal necessity to have someone by your side.” he squeezed his shoulder. “There are... typical ways to be happy. Have a nice house, a couple of children, a steady job... But that doesn't mean that _unusual_ happiness is any less vivid than the one we are used to.”

Was happiness lived inside of a little house lost in the middle of the bayou any less than the happiness that some store in big house in a good neighborhood of a crowded city? Maybe not. Merriell didn't know because he couldn't compare. He only saw that Eugene wanted to go back to New Orleans as soon as they arrived to Mobile. Maybe that mean something.

 _Stop being so selfish_.

“If I stay and he comes back home with me, he might stop talkin' to his mother.” Merriell desperately tried to find another excuse. He refused to believe that he was willing to leave him behind without a decent reason. He... He was doing this for him. As stupid as it seemed while speaking with Eugene's father. “And you wouldn't want to be in the middle of that,” he could finally look at him and asked: “would you?”

“If such things happens and I am in the middle, I can make sure they start talking again.”

Merriell shook his head and huffed. “It ain't that easy. I can't... I can't do this, alright? I can't be that selfish. I love him.” he licked his lips. “I love him more than I ever loved myself. And for him, I'm willin' to do anythin'. Even break his heart so he can have better in the future.”

 _You'll have to be the bad guy once again_.

“You are telling me all this, Merriell, but it feels like you are trying to convince yourself more than you are trying to convince me.” Edward commented, squeezing his shoulder one last time before he stood up. “I'll let you have some minutes alone. But give it a thought. Try to see if you are doing the right thing.”

Merriell rubbed his nose, nervously, and rested his elbows on his knees. After a small silence, he nodded and mumbled. “Yeah, I will. Thank you.” The kind comforting hand patted his head and walked back inside of the kitchen. Edward's idea was to make a cup of coffee for the both of them and hope that the boy would still be there and willing to stay, but it was clear that Merriell had to clear his head. And only he could do that.

Upstairs, Eugene opened his eyes and stretched his back.

He woke up with the taste of ashes over the roof of his mouth. Like there was something _wrong_. Like a heavy and destructive storm was coming his way. His body felt cold and strange. Like it wasn't his own anymore. He frowned and scratched his arms, hoping to get rid of that disturbing sensation. It was so overwhelming that even forced him to get off the bed and stand up. Rub his knees and roll his shoulders in hopes to regain that sense of familiarity that connected soul and flesh.

Maybe a cup of tea would help him soothe his nerves and go back to sleep. At that very moment, his heart seemed to be about to start racing at any moment. His first thought was that this had to be the consequence of going to bed so worried, last night.

Eugene walked towards the door of his room when he almost slipped since he stepped on the note Merriell wrote him before walking out of the house.

The redhead frowned and picked the piece of paper and unfolded it.

_I don't think this is my place. Listen to your mother._

_Take care of yourself, boy._

_Merriell_

“...What?” Eugene breathed, unable to keep himself silent. His body became even more detatched from him, as a thin layer of cold sweat began to cover his forehead. “No... No, no, no.” his heart squeezed and started to hammer tight and fast against his frail chest. “No!” he walked out of his room and rushed downstairs, feeling his heartbeat on his throat and temples. His vision became blurry with worry and he almost tripped with the two last steps.

He pushed the door of their house open with his hands and forearms, making it slam over the door and bounce back. Eugene was panting, his heart about to give up when he saw Merriell, walking away from the residence with a suitcase on his hand. While the boy tried to follow the advice of Eugene's father, he had been unable to stay there until he would come back.

Eugene ran after him.

Merriell heard the rushed footsteps coming closer and closer each time. The anxious breathing. When he turned, Eugene was right there. He put his hands on his chest and then he shoved up, hard enough to make him stumble and almost fall.

Eugene was choking up in his own anger and sadness. This? This was betrayal at its finest. Merriell, who said that he would never leave him, was walking away from him. “You were ready to _abandon_ me with a fucking letter?!” the redhead stepped forward once again and grabbed him by the shirt, shaking him. His fingers were trembling. “You write me two fucking lines and you think you have the right to shut me out, you coward?”

Merriell breathed a little heavier and kept his eyes on the ground. No, no. This was not supposed to go like this. He was not supposed to see him ever again.

Eugene pushed him because he wouldn't look at him. “I'm talking to you!” he sniffed before he took a deep breath. Merriell squeezed his eyes shut. “You stupid bastard, I am talking to you! Look at me!” he heard Eugene whimpering and gasping. “ _Look at me_!” he sobbed, pulling his shirt once more.

The veteran only tried to step back, unable to face that situation.

Eugene was heartbroken at that gesture. He was leaving him behind. He was removing himself from the situation like it was _nothing_. How could he do that to him? “How can you be so selfish?” he finally released him. His cheeks were moist and he knew he was foolish and weak for crying. But this hurt so bad. He felt _betrayed_. “How can take so much away from me?” Eugene took a shaky breath. “How can you shut me out like that? You don't love me? Didn't you say that this would only end if I ever walked away?” even if he tried to find his eyes, Merriell was stubborn. “I'm not walking away. Why are you? Why are you leaving me alone here when you know I am not happy? Huh?!” he grew frustrated again and pushed him for the third time. Merriell took it in silence. _He deserved it_. “You are leaving me. You are... taking everything that I have with you! You know I love you! And you are shutting me out of New Orleans? So I won't ever feel at home again? So I will never see Mamaw or Lou again? How can you take so much away from me when you know I love you and that I'll only be happy if I am with you?!”

Merriell opened his mouth and swallowed thickly. He blinked and licked his lips before he looked at Eugene so briefly. He was in tears, desperate and miserable.

He felt _disgusting_. Like a goddamn _abomination_. Like he was made of mud and blood.

“Eugene...” he began, so weakly, so lost. He didn't know what to say. He was not meant to be selfish. Quite the opposite, but now that Eugene worded it like that... Maybe he was taking a lot away from him. Maybe... Maybe this had been one big fucking mistake.

 _Yeah, no shit_.

“Take your fucking note.” he pushed the paper against his chest. Merriell let it fall to the ground. Eugene turned around and thought that he was going to walk back to the house. But he stopped himself and said: “You are not going to talk to me? You are not going to say anything to me? Like that note is enough? I spent _hours_ speaking with my parents, last night! Because that's what you do when you love someone, you know? You fight for them. You don't leave them behind when there's a problem. You find a way. And you keep going. But you don't care enough. I don't mean shit to you, do I?” he forced himself to take a second to not hyperventilate and give his heart a worse time than it was already having. “ _Do I_?!” Eugene couldn't help himself, at that point he practically sounded like he was begging for an answer.

“You don't see it, do you?” Merriell asked, with a low voice.

“See what?!” Eugene interrupted him. “Talk clearly, goddamn it! Say what you mean!”

“Look at me!” the veteran finally snapped. He grabbed Eugene's by his arms and shook him. “Look at me, for fuck's sake! What am I? Huh?! I am nothin'! I have no parents, I don't know a fuckin' thing about them! I would have died if Mamaw wouldn't have taken care of me! I went to war and came back half the man I was! I have trouble sleeping! I feel sick when it rains! I have bullets holes in my flesh! I work my ass off every fuckin' day to barely make a decent amount of money!” he pressed his thumbs on his biceps and forced him to move closer when Eugene looked away, tensing his jaw and a few more tears rolling down his cheeks. Merriell tried to find his eyes, desperate and moist. Clouded with the guilt of thinking that he was not enough and the fear of Eugene noticing that himself and leaving him. He ended this before Eugene could ever do it himself. He thought it would hurt less like that. How wrong he had been. “Then why...” he swallowed. “Then why would you even try?! Why would you even want someone so miserably ruined?!”

“You _loved_ me.” Eugene confessed. He didn't know if that was still how he felt. Merriell surely was not acting like he did. “And that was exactly what I wanted from you.”

“That is not enough!” Merriell screamed. How would he feel five years from now? When he would still dealing with Merriell's nightmares? When he would want to prosper in life and see that he was a burden? Or hold hands while walking around the streets of New Orleans? Love could win against all that?

Probably not. It was the road towards frustration and devastation.

He was doing this for _him_.

 _God, let me be right about this_.

Eugene fell silent. Not enough? So all this... progress was not enough? This had been the hardest and yet the most freeing thing he ever lived. And it was not enough? To finally be himself and live life in a way that would make him happy was not enough? Oh, that hurt. That hurt so bad. The boy denied and took a deep breath. He rubbed his face with his hands stepped back, even if Merriell was still holding his arms. “Don't touch me.”

“Huh...?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Don't touch me.” Eugene released himself from his hands. “Now get out.” he stood still, looking up but not at Merriell.

Maybe that was when he understood that he truly ruined this thinking he was taking the right choice.

“Eugene...”

“Get the fuck out! Get out of my house! _Now_!” Eugene began to scream, loud and desperate. He looked at his absolute worst. His hair was still messy from bed, his flesh paler than usual and his eyes wet and rimmed with red. “ _Leave_!!”

Merriell looked around anxiously and needed to be shoved one last time before he turned around and started to run. It didn't matter if he was crying, he was the one that hurt Eugene and therefore deserved all the blame and pain he could get.

By the time Edward walked out of the house, alarmed by the screaming, he found his son standing alone and Merriell crossing the threshold, to never come back. He walked as fast as possible and put his hand on his son's back. “Eugene?” he asked, worried. The boy burst into the tears once again and his father held him.

*** * ***

Merriell left but today was _still_ Sid's wedding.

The only thing Eugene wanted to do was hide under the blankets of his bed and cry his eyes out. Was this terrible feeling the one responsible for so many poems? He didn't think it was worth it to suffer that much to make something beautiful.

Eugene tried to not think about it. If he did, he wouldn't be able to leave the house. He didn't look at his own face over the mirror. His eyes were fixed on his fingers as he tied his tie around his neck.

“Eugene.” his mother called as she knocked at his door, softly. Eugene took a few seconds before he turned his head to look at her. She smiled slightly. When she woke up, Eugene was already crying on his father's shoulder. “Look at you.” she walked inside of his room. He didn't want her around.

He looked at her and there was nothing in his eyes. They were sullen and tired. Rotten with distaste.

“How handsome you look.” she whispered, brushing his shoulders before she cupped his left cheek. Eugene tilted his head back and away from her. Mary Frank sighed. “I know this hurts, honey. But this was meant to happen sooner or later. It's a good thing that happened today. You'll enjoy yourself at Sid's wedding. I'm sure you'll walk out of it with a new sense of hope.”

He knew what that meant: _Now that he's gone, maybe you can be the boy you used to be and that was so easy to handle_.

“Now, smile a little bit. It will be a happy day.”

How could she say that? How could she still be convinced that she was doing the right thing?

“What else do you want from me?” Eugene asked. “You already won, mother. He's gone.” he turned his head once again and grabbed the jacket of his suit. “No need to pretend anymore that you did any of this for me.”

And after that, Eugene refused to speak with his mother. Or anyone, really.

He sat on that church, hearing the priest talk about love and he didn't believe anything that he said. He was speaking _lies_. Eugene had love so tightly tied to his noisy heart, that each time it swelled up and contracted, it squeezed pain into his veins just to think that Merriell abandoned him. That he said that love was not enough. That what he felt for him was not enough. How was he supposed to believe that love would last _until death would do them apart_? There were far too many things that could stand in their way.

For God's sake, Sid had sex with other girls while being with Mary. Was that worth forgiving? Was that love, at all?

Eugene felt like he was the only fruit in that tree that wouldn't fall. He would always be the lonely bachelor Eugene Sledge, now putrid with the first time he experienced heartbreak. Others would find their right partner and he would know that he once had him and that he was abandoned by him.

He failed to feel joy when Sid and Mary kissed.

Neither he felt it when he saw them sharing their first dance as husband and wife.

Everybody was so happy for them that he felt repulsed by all those who stood around him. Everybody was celebrating their love and he was mourning his own. He couldn't be asked to join. He couldn't be asked to feel joyful when he was as miserable as a man could be. And still, Sid was his friend and he owed him some decency. So instead of drowing his sorrow in alcohol, he decided to step out and get some fresh air before he felt the urging need to smoke.

As he captured the pipe between his lips, he tried to not think how happy he felt during Burgie's wedding (even if he ended up feeling a little jealous when they left). He didn't want to think how quickly his life changed. For the worst and forever.

He barely got to enjoy a few minutes alone before he heard Sid's voice: “Eugene? Finally! I've looking for you like crazy!” he smiled so wide that Eugene could barely look at him. He had no right to ruin the happiest day of his life. But it also happened to be the worst day of his.

“Here I am.” he said dully.

Sid offered one of the drinks he brought with him and chuckled, confused and frowning a little: “What is it? You look gloomy.”

Eugene took the delicate glass from his hand sipped the champagne briefly. “Do I?” the pipe back on his lower lip. The sour tabacco was far more pleasing than the sparkling drink.

“Yes.” Sid insisted. “And I noticed that Shelton is not around.”

“And here I thought a groom was supposed to keep his eyes on the bride...”

“Eugene, come on.” Sid huffed a little bit. “I kind of assumed that you would bring him. I didn't think I had to specify.” he confessed. “I'm sorry if you misunderstood. But I guess... Look. I understand you might not be having fun without him. So I won't mind if you leave now.” Sid was learning how to be a better friend. A better man. Less selfish and understanding that his own happiness was not always essential for others. That sometimes he had to give up on things for them, too. “Your parents are still around, so you two might even have some int—”

“He left me.”

Sid blinked and parted his lips. He stayed in silence for a couple of seconds and Eugene thought it was infuriating. “I'm sorry, what?”

“He left me. This morning. With a note.” he took the pipe off his mouth so he could speak properly. And feeling the tears coming back to his eyes, he forced them to disappear when he drank glass of champagne with a long gulp. “So I don't think you'll see him around either tonight or ever again.”

“What happened?” the worry was clear on his voice.

Eugene shrugged. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to explain how little it meant for Merriell to leave him with a note. With two fucking lines. “My mother saw us. We argued. He didn't think I was worth the trouble and left. _Simple_.”

“But weren't you two...” Sid looked around and lowered his voice. “in love?”

Eugene left the empty glass on the ground and took the one was still holding. He drank that one as well. Not strong enough. He was still thinking about _him_. “So I thought.”

“...So it's over?” Sid insisted.

“Yup.”

“And aren't you... sad?” Well, when he thought he was going to lose Mary, he felt devastated.

“Oh, it's eating my alive. But today is your happy day, isn't it?” Eugene raised his eyebrows. Those eyes of his had a veil of misery over them.

“Eugene...” Sid whispered. There he was, looking better than ever and living a day he would never forget. That had been his best friend for many years. And in a way, the only company he had until he could walk out of his cocoon. And sure, Sid made mistakes. But so did Eugene. Both of them were growing. No one could expect perfection from another being when not even they could deliver such. Sid was his best friend and he couldn't let him down.

Sid stepped forward to hug Eugene. The redhead stopped him. He denied. If he held him, he would start crying once again to not stop for hours, as it happened that morning. Sid would feel guilty and stay with him.

No need for that.

“I'm fine.” he nodded. Sid squeezed his arm and Eugene bit his tongue. “I'm alright.” he tried to convince himself.

“What are you going to do now?” Sid asked carefully. Eugene was studying in New Orleans and claimed that he wanted to finish his degree there. August would come to an end and he would have to resume his education.

“I have no idea.” Eugene snorted. What the Hell is he going to do now? He didn't want to think about it. Not now when the wound of their break up was open and weeping. So fresh it needed to be tended before Eugene could think about _anything_ else. “But I assume I'll have to stay here. I have nowhere to go, so...” he shrugged. “You get what you wanted, huh?” before Sid left to New Orleans he confessed that all he wanted was that Eugene would return and stay with him in Mobile. _Wish granted!_

That was the _funniest_ part of all of this: everybody got what they wanted.

Everybody but him.


	29. Heresy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat that emanated from the bayou was unbearable. It was humid and plagued with mosquitoes and other insects floating over the steady waters of the swamp. In that very moment, that place didn't look like home. It looked ugly, poor and like the very pit of misfortune. He didn't want to go back home to an empty house. He didn't want to be there without his boy.   
> He didn't want to be without his boy. Either there or anywhere else.
> 
> OR 
> 
> I made it even worse.

How is he going to explain them what happened?

How is he going to tell Mamaw and Lou that he lost his boy? That none of what they did until he came back from war mattered? That Mamaw finding the cure for his miserable spirit was now no longer a part of his life? That Lou making sure that the boy would fall in love with New Orleans was a wasted effort because he would never return? How is he going to bear the shame of knowing that he has failed to give him the life that he deserved? That he ruined his chance at happiness by being a stupid boy, considering he did the _right_ thing, for once?

And most importantly, how the Hell is he going to survive knowing that the best times have already been lived and that whatever that might come his way will always be compared to those months he spent with his boy? And be reduced to a poor substitute for happiness?

It took him all of his energy and strength to not cry on the train back home. He went to Mobile with Eugene and he came back alone. How is he going to live without him? How is it possible that he already regretted his decision? He has been such a fool. Such a fucking fool and now he had to pay for the consequences.

Merriell arrived to New Orleans little before lunch. No one was there to pick him up because Lou didn't expect him to arrive so soon. They were supposed to take the train right after the wedding ended, as they did with Burgie's. None of that mattered anymore. Merriell felt like walking, he had to clear his head and try to find the right words to say before he would arrive to the little hut and tell them what he did and how sorry he was.

It would be way easier if the picture of Eugene crying and pushing him away didn't repeat over and over again in the back of his mind. It was _over_. It was over and it was on him. Because Eugene did as much as he could to fight his mother. He heard them talk _hours_ after the argument. And how Eugene told him that when you loved someone, how you were meant to fight for them. And back in that moment of shadows and confusions, Merriell truly believed that he was doing the right thing. That fighting for Eugene implied removing himself from the situation and letting him bloom under a more favorable light. Let him have a proper chance to enjoy happiness in a way less concealed way.

He never wanted to hurt him and that was _all_ that he did.

The heat that emanated from the bayou was unbearable. It was humid and plagued with mosquitoes and other insects floating over the steady waters of the swamp. In that very moment, that place didn't look like _home_. It looked ugly, poor and like the very pit of misfortune. He didn't want to go back home to an empty house. He didn't want to be there without his boy.

He didn't want to be without his boy. Either _there_ or _anywhere_ else.

Not even the little shack where he grew up brought him any sort of comfort. Nor seeing Mamaw, sitting on her chair, looking far more tired than ever. Older and almost fragile. Defeated. She knew what happened. She always knew _everything_.

_Good_. That would save him from saying a single thing, so far. Things would be more complicated with Lou, who would probably ask and insist. And he would have to figure out how to explain her without breaking down.

Mamaw extended a hand towards him and he walked towards her, sat down by her side and looked at her. She patted his cheek and sighed: “Too insecure, _still_.”

“It's gonna kill me, Mamaw.” he whispered. “I can feel it. It's gonna kill me.” that soul of his would rot, as the woman said once.

To have and then lose joy _might_ be even worse than to never experience it.

“You'll be distracted.” she was not scolding him. She was not blaming him. And he wanted her to. She once told him to be wise, when he saw Eugene for the first time. She _warned_ him. Then and many times after that. But the harm was done. What could she do, now? Merriell wanted to suffer in hopes to atone so he would be returned his boy. Even if he didn't deserve him. “There's plenty comin' our way.”

“...I don't understand.” he whispered.

“There might no be blood ties between us...” she began. Her hand caressed Merriell's hair and he leaned against it, desperate for an affection he didn't get often. He missed it now more than ever. “But tragedy begins with one of us and it follows us all, Merry.”

He feared the worst. He held her hand with both of his. “You can't leave me now.” Eugene kept the secret, but Merriell could see and notice that she was growing weak. She won't stay with them much longer. “ _Please_.” he pleaded.

“It ain't me.” Mamaw denied. “Not _yet_.” Old as she was, she was not scared of death. As soon as she leaves those kids, she would be reunited with her darling Connie. Something she has been waiting for ever since she left her side. “It's our Louloute.” the youngest; someone Mamaw felt responsible for. She looked so much like Connie. Had her same kind and hopeful spirit that was about to be mutilated. She was not going to die until she sees those two happy and with a beautiful future ahead them. She was going to stick around until then. _Mark her words_.

“Is she okay? Her mother again?” She knew that she was awfully quiet lately. There was something wrong with her ever since since that evening when she refused to talk. The same theory came back to him, a little stronger and louder. “She's pregnant, isn't she?”

“Don't be foolish.” Mamaw shook her head.

“What is it?” he asked anxiously. “Just tell me, goddamn it, what is it?”

The old mambo did not look at him. She kept her eyes on the door and waited until Lou walked inside of the hut about seven minutes later. She looked miserable. _Devastated_. If she knew all this before it happened, why didn't she interfere? Why didn't she stand in the way? Merriell doubted that you learned something each time you suffered. He didn't learn a fucking thing during the war. He didn't come back wiser.

But, at the same time and in a very very _very_ selfish way, Merriell was glad that she looked worse than he did. The more he focuses on her pain, the less he will think about his own. Merriell stood up and she raised her eyes to look at him. Then at Mamaw. Lou said _nothing_ and that was unlike her. Young and foolish as she was, she never thought that speaking her mind or how she felt was something bad. Now she was quiet. She has been for a while.

“Lulu?” he asked, carefully, stepping towards her. “Are you okay, girl? What happened?”

“I'm gonna lay down for a while.” she mumbled, gesturing vaguely towards Merriell's old room, the one she had been using ever since she moved in with Mamaw. “My head hurts, I...” she looked a little disoriented. She didn't even question why Merriell was there, far too early and without Eugene.

He touched her back as she walked past them. Lou only rested a hand on Mamaw's shoulder and closed the door as she slipped inside of the room. Merriell looked down at the old woman and she nodded. He followed the girl and knocked before she walked inside as well. Lou was sitting down on the very narrow and small bed. Last time he slept there, Merriell thought he was going to die. But his boy saved him. His heart squeezed and he felt pain. “Lulu...” he tried once again. “What is it?”

Lou was not looking at him. The mannequin dressed with her wedding dress was all she could look at. He blinked and observed it. He didn't get to see the result of her hard work until now. Merriell didn't know a single thing about dresses but he thought it was beautiful and that make an entire wedding dress before even turning twenty was surely not something _anyone_ could do.

“I've been such a fool, Merry...” she whispered. “Who makes the dress before havin' the boy?” after licking her lips, she finally turned her head and looked at him. “He doesn't wanna be with me anymore.”

“What...?” he remembered feeling jealous of her when she managed to make a move on Romie before he did on Eugene. Now, see that she might be on the same place as he was made him feel miserable. He couldn't be happening. “What do you mean?”

“He left me.” she continued, her eyes becoming all watery and sad. The care and love he had for the girl was so old and so honest, that it was like seeing a younger sister cry. She was not even his cousin and yet, she cried and he ached the same. Merriell cupped her face with both of his hands. His thumbs captured the first tears that rolled down her cheeks —not so full anymore, she was no longer a little girl. “My Robert left me. I thought...” she sobbed. “I thought... we'd be okay. That he was insecure and scared, but I thought...” She thought that love could conquer _anything_. Maybe she was wrong. Her story was supposed to be _easy_. She was a girl and Romie was a boy. It should be easy as it gets. “I've been a fool. Oh, Merry, I lost my boy. He doesn't wanna be with me anymore.”

And those words hurt because she suffered but also because Merriell was in the very same position. Was that supposed to happen? For misery to become and infectious disease?

He wanted to cry with her. Tell her that he suffered the very same pain. And yet, maybe it was those five years that made him older or the fact that he saw her grow up —even if he missed the last four years— that made him feel the need to protect her. To help her. To use his own body to make sure she could crawl out of that pit where they both had been shoved into. “My girl...” he whispered before he wrapped his arms around him. Lou leaned her head heavily on his shoulder and started to cry, as he remembered her doing with her cousin Roe when they were nothing but kids. He was no longer in New Orleans, he would have to take that role, now. “Don't cry. Tell me what happened. I'll make it right.”

“You can't!” Lou sobbed and pushed him away. He didn't let her escape his arms completely. “You can't make this right, Merry!” and he breathed that _yes, he could_. Perhaps a little more desperate and anxious than usual. Was the guilt of ruining of his relationship with Eugene forcing him to be willing to try anything to help her? Probably. “He doesn't wanna be with me anymore! Makes him unhappy!” and that made her cry more than anything. “Makes him feel like he's not enough! Can't he see that he's all I want? All I need?”

The veteran parted his lips but he couldn't find his voice. Was she in the very same position as Eugene? Was the boy suffering as much as she was? When he left, he was crying. Would he still be crying, as well?

She escaped his hands in that moment of doubt. Lou rubbed her forehead nervously with her three fingers of her right hand. Then she walked around in that tiny bedroom and Merriell looked up at her. She was anxious, tired and heartbroken. Knowing Romie like he did, he still loved her. And knowing veterans for he was one himself, he knew that their reasons might be similar. “He said... That he can't push me away from my family.” _There it is_. “That he has no right to do that. That a girl needs her mother... My mother...” it was hard to say that out loud and she kept crying as she did. “She never did much for me, did she, Merry?” Merriell looked down. “Why is she so important, now?” Her mother kicked her out of her house, after all. And while Romie blamed himself for that, it wouldn't have mattered if he had been any different. It was not on him, it was on Elise. “He even... called me _Louise_. He never calls me Louise.” No one calls her Louise. Only her mother. _Terrible implication_.

The silence between the two of them and that foolish yet very revealing detail was what finally broke her and made her understand what just happened and what the love her life told her. “How can I be such an idiot?” All the money she saved for their wedding, the hours she spent making her wedding dress... She caressed one of the sleeves. She was convinced that Romie would take plenty of time to ask her and that because of that, they wouldn't get married until fall. She did as much as possible to get the silk from the owner of the store where she worked at for a decent price. But Lou even called her cousin to ask her if he still had his parachute. Or Babe's. She wouldn't be the first one to make a wedding dress out of a parachute.

She wanted to marry the boy so bad she was willing to do _anything_. And now, look at her.

She had to be the most stupid girl in New Orleans. _By far_.

Lou pulled the sleeve and ripped the delicate seam over the shoulder. And because it was so easy to ruin, she grabbed another fistfull of fabric over the chest and pulled down once again.

“Lulu.” Merriell quickly stood up and grabbed her by the arms. He knew that she would regret as soon as she would understand what she was doing. But the girl was still pulling and ripping the dress while crying with frustration, anger and despair. “Lulu, stop!” he pulled her back and wrapped one arm around her collarbones and then another around her waist.

She was not going to wear it. Who cares? She didn't want that dress to remind her how utterly _stupid_ she has been.

“Stop it!” he squeezed her tighter and forced her to step back. Then Lou simply allowed herself to fall to the floor because this was _too much_.

She has been dealing with too much for far too long. Ever since the war started, and perhaps even before that, this world has been feeding her disenchantment, spoonful after spoonful. It was about time she stopped being a hopeful child. Still, it was _terrible_ seeing her losing such an important part of herself.

“My father is dead,” a father that didn't get to return from war to make things right. That got killed by a bullet and left behind on a shore. “my mother doesn't love me,” nor made the effort to understand her daughter, assuming she was the reason of all of her problems “my siblings are not allowed to talk to me.” Elise didn't let her inside of the house ever since she kicked her out. “And now I won't get married.” Romie seemed to be what she needed. What she craved. A sweet and tender boy. The one that blushed when she kissed him and called him _hers_. The one that would become her husband and the father of her children. And because of a hideous war and an unfair mother, he stepped back, terrified of ruining her life. What did she get? _Nothing_. “All my life I tried to help others. Make them happy. Who makes _me_ happy?! Huh?!”

Merriell didn't know what to say when she looked at him. It truly felt that all of them had been cursed with being close to happiness only to see how it was taken away from them. Merriell swallowed thickly, understanding her sadness and sharing it with her. He caressed her hair, as tender as he could and offered something that was not a smile. Not quite. Why? Why was this happening? There was any reason behind those punishments?

Lou was still sniffing and sobbing, but in that moment she saw something she missed until that moment: the familiar tragedy of loneliness in Merriell's big eyes. She tilted her head and touched his cheek with her soft palm. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. “What happened to you, Merry?”

He held her closer, if possible, and hid his face with shame and regret.

Mamaw didn't interrupt them. She didn't comfort them, either. They _must_ learn how to help each other. She won't be here for much longer and she had to make sure they would be safe while trusting each other. This might be the only family they will get, after all.

**MOBILE, ALABAMA**

“How are you doing?” Sid asked the following morning after his wedding. His smile was soft and he spoke to Eugene like the other was either about to burst into tears or break something.

Maybe he was. His head hurt and he didn't get any sleep, last night. Eugene was still wearing his pajamas with his dressing gown over them, trying to pretend that he was not as defeated as he felt. His face said it all, though. His eyes were lost and he held the tea between his hands, _ignored_. After a long and uncomfortable silence —Sid even called his name to see if he heard him—, the redhead mumbled: “Aren't you supposed to leave? Enjoy your honeymoon?”

“There's no rush. We will leave after lunch.” he briefly explained. Sid licked his lips and rested his hand over Eugene's. The redhead frowned a little bit. Sid, trying to comfort him, was far more bizarre than arguing with him. “I wanted to check on you, first.” surely he was trying to be a good friend.

Eugene should appreciate that. He probably did but it was complicated to feel anything other than bitterness at that very moment.

“I'm okay.” of course, he didn't mean it.

“ _Right_.”

He sighed and tried once again. “It will pass.” that's the good thing about having your heart broken, right? That you move on and heal. _Eventually_. But sadly, Merriell was the pillar that sustained his heart. Could he recover from that? Keep living as he did while missing something so vitally important? “With time. I'll feel better.”

“Why don't you...” Sid winced a little bit when Eugene looked at him. Was he really about to give him advice? About his relationship? With another man? That will be entertaining. “call him? Or write to him? I... If you say that he loved you, I don't think he stopped so suddenly.”

“Looks like he did.”

“No, but... Listen to me. Why make the effort to wait until you two would be here to break up?”

“So he wouldn't have to kick me out of his house.”

“It's very hard to talk to you when you get in this mood, Eugene.”

“Oh, I _apologize_. I find it a little complicated to be cheerful at the moment.”

“ _Eugene_.” the blond boy looked with a very clear: _cut it out, already_.

“It's not going to work, Sid.” he mumbled, looking down at his mug. The tea was now cold and far from tempting. “He said that me, loving him, was not enough. If it was, then I would do _anything_.” no limits. He was willing to do as much as a human was capable of for Merriell. “You know how long it took me to get there? To allow myself to love him? Took me _years_.” And then he told him it was not enough. That _hurt_. “I love him and it's not enough. How can you bear that? How can you possibly stand someone telling you that your love is not enough?”

Sid squeezed his hand and moved a little closer to him —as much as the separation between both chairs allowed him to. “You are my best friend and anyone who says that you are not enough must be a complete _moron_.” Eugene smiled a little bit. “But I... God, I don't know. But it can't _only_ be that.” Sid didn't like Merriell. He didn't like him at all. He was brash, rude, distant and he was the only reason why Eugene lived in New Orleans. But he didn't want to keep his friend in Mobile if that implied that Eugene would look like that: miserable and weak.

Not only mentally weak but physically weak, as well. Sid felt impressed that Eugene could barely walk out of the house all by himself. But that was something Eugene usually did, right? _Somatize_. Little Sid knew that Eugene's soul was far more empathetic than he knew. That it was tangled and knitted close to Merriell's. When lovers part when their feelings are the most pure, they can't possibly survive separation.

Eugene would become weaker and weaker with time. That gift of his could easily become a curse. He could see and feel other people's pain. Now he had to bear his own and the misery his companion was suffering in another state.

The boy released his hand from Sid's and rubbed his forehead before he denied. “No, I...” he couldn't help but feeling betrayed and hurt. He thought that Merriell was happy. He saw it in his eyes, in his soul. Then why...? Why?! Why would Merriell believe what she said? He was enough. He was more than enough. He was the one Eugene wanted: body and soul. There was something between the both of them. Something that was now broken and would make them suffer. Eugene coughed.

“Are you okay?” Sid asked as Eugene kept coughing. “Eugene?” he stood up and placed a hand on his back after taking the mug away from him. “Come on, it's okay.” he encouraged his friend to lean forward before Eugene started retching.

It's been only one day only and his body was rejecting the situation. _Either with him or else, boy_.

Of course, Sid got a little bit scared and rushed to warn Eugene's father even if he tried to capture the fabric of his trousers. The redhead squeezed his eyes shut and a couple of tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched his chest. His heart was racing and forcing his whole body to become moist with sweat and pale under the Sun.

“Eugene.” he could recognize his father's touch before he even heard his voice. “Try to breathe slowly, son.” Edward cupped Eugene's face with his hands. The boy's face was moist and so miserably broken. Eugene whimpered and started to cry, holding onto his father's chest. The frustration a father felt after seeing his son in such pain was _unbearable_. He will take care of him until he will be able to carry on or things get any better. “Sid, help me to take him back inside the house.”

*** * ***

After they managed to lay Eugene down on his bed and get him to calm down, Sid offered himself to stay. It was Edward who refused and told him that he should leave and enjoy his honeymoon. Sid, who is still felt guilty about the things he told Eugene during his visit to New Orleans, wanted to do as much as possible to help his friend. Even get him back with Merriell if that was the only solution for his current pain. And while he was not allowed to help because he could barely do anything for Eugene, Edward promised him to call him or tell Eugene to do so once he would feel a little better. He gave him the number of the hotel where he would stay at before he squeezed Eugene's hand and hoped him the very best.

The boy was ashamed when he looked at his father from his bed. He was the eldest. He was about to turn twenty-three in a couple of months. His father shouldn't see him breaking down because a boy didn't think his love was enough. “I'm sorry...”

Edward sighed and placed his hand over Eugene's forehead. He caressed it with his thumb after he brushed the locks of hair aside. “None of this is your fault, Eugene.”

“Feels like it is...” he replied, weak and miserable. “I don't think I can be without him. And I don't think he can be without me.” did that make him selfish? Or arrogant? If Merriell gets sick once again, who is going to take care of him? Mamaw was old and dying. She told him herself. And Lou... She would get married, eventually. What if Merriell ends up all alone? Suffering and without anyone around to soothe the pain?

_What if he finds someone else? Someone who loves him better than I can?_

That poisonous thought made him gasp and cry a couple of tears more. Edward wiped them with the back of his fingers. “It will be okay. You have to _believe_.” God knows his father was not the one to rely on faith. Things must be looking pretty _ugly_ for him to say that.

“I can't. I have _nothing_ I can hold onto.” there was nothing in the immediate future that could make him happy. He was stuck there with nothing to look forward to. Eugene huffed, covering his face with his hands, scared of that void. Of that big emptiness that kept him from going back to what made him happy because it was no longer a choice. What is he going to do?

The knock on the door distracted him and his mother stepped inside of his bedroom. Eugene was unable to look at her. She killed his happiness. She ruined his life. “Feeling any better?” she sounded concerned. She was far from distant because in her own mind, she made no mistake and she was still responsible for her son. Still, she decided to give him a little space while he was brought inside of the house. Now that Sid left, it was her time to take care of him.

Eugene turned and laid on his side when she tried to touch his arm. “Get her out of here, please.”

“ _Eugene_.” Mary Frank frowned.

“Don't bother the boy, Mary Frank.” Edward stood up. “He needs to rest. Let's go.” he wrapped his arm around her and walked out of the room as she looked at her son over his shoulder. Edward closed the door and sighed. “He is very upset. You should give him some space.”

“If he is upset, he needs his mother.” she firmly replied.

“Not when he thinks you are the one to blame for the situation.” he kept his opinion for himself. Edward rubbed his forehead and exhaled. “I think it would be a good idea to drive him to New Orleans once he feels a little bit better. I think that if they speak, things will get better. That boy clearly cares about our son.”

“I don't believe it.” Mary Frank denied, refusing such thing. She saw right through Merriell and didn't think there was nothing worth liking. Eugene did as much as he could for him and that war boy tricked him. She was not going to let him abuse her son ever again. “I can understand that he feels betrayed, Edward. And that he blames me for his pain. I can take it. But I know I am not wrong. I did the _right_ thing.”

“You can't keep controlling his life. He is allowed to chose what he wants.” he tried once again.

“He did and look what that brought him. Am I supposed to sit down and let him do whatever he wants knowing that he will get hurt again? You can't ask me to do that, Edward. I am his mother.” and there was nothing she said with more authority than that. “And he will have to listen to me. It's my duty to protect him. And if he can't see that, _now_ , he will with time.”

“Maybe you should ask yourself if you are in the wrong, this time.”

And that was what truly hurt and offended her. Mary Frank raised her chin and brushed her skirt. To question her as a mother was to question the love she had for her children. She knew how it was to grow up with a distant mother. And she promised herself to never put her sons through that same situation.

She was _not_ wrong.

“I'm going to see if I can call Eddie.” their current situation was quite complicated. Their youngest son was still at a hotel, since he refused to attend to Sid's wedding after their argument. He might need this suitcase before leaving once again. Maybe she could encourage him to stay with them under the premise of keeping awful words out of his mouth. She wished she could go back in time, when there was no doubt in what she did and her children lived happily under their roof. Under her care.

Edward looked at her as she walked downstairs and leaned against the wall of the corridor.

How could make he fix this situation and try to make both of them happy?

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Poor Unfortunate Souls Fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720739) by [IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic/pseuds/IAmOnlyPartlyMajestic)




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